In His Veins
by SirPapillon
Summary: After unsettling dreams and a trip to the aquarium, McGee realizes that there's something within him that needs to be freed. Something that needs to be realized before it destroys him. Inspired by Enthusiastic Fish
1. Chapter 1

**Early Sunday Morning**

_Alright, Tim. You have to do this. And the coast is clear. You knocked out the security cameras. You've temporarily disable the emergency alarms. You've mapped out the places hidden from the guards. You've got the bolt cutters. You're in all black, and your completely covered so no hair or any forensic evidence will be left behind. All you're doing is taking a look. Relax. I know, I know, it's illegal, but you know you have to. Why? I don't know. It's the dreams. I have to do it, because of the dreams. You're just going to look. No big deal. You're not stealing anything. You're not breaking anything (except a lock or two). You're not hurting anyone. You just need to see. I just need to see them. _

McGee took a deep breath, then emerged from his hiding spot in some bushes beside the road. It was just after 3 am on Sunday morning, and McGee, who should have been dressed in his pajamas, was in all black. Just below his black beanie, was a set of wild green eyes that his coworkers wouldn't recognize. Below those, was a tight black hoodie, black cargo pants, and black combat boots. In black gloved hands, he tightly gripped a dark blue backpack. Within it was a camera, bolt cutters, a knife, flashlight with red cellophane duct taped over the lens, Ziva's lock-pick kit, a can of spray-on industrial lubricant, and one pound of fresh fish.

Quickly ducking beyond the street light's glow, he jogged towards the tall cement wall painted with blue. He cautiously approached a small door in the wall and began to unzip his backpack. He pulled from it the bolt cutters and the lubricant spray, then heard the ominous rumble of a car.

McGee hit the ground, his body making a soft 'thud' on the grass. Thankfully, between the street and his position was a low hedge, hiding the NCIS agent from the headlights as they swept past him. He could almost hear his heart pounding through his chest.

Quickly, he regained his composure and hustled to the door. He took one look around, then sprayed the hinges of the door liberally with the lubricant. After stuffing the can back into the backpack, he then snapped the lock off with the bolt cutters. Carefully, he pulled the door outwards. The lubricant proved itself as the door swung open without even a creak. He replaced the bolt cutters in his bag, slung it over his shoulders, then closed the door behind him.

The red glow of the flashlight filled the noisy hallway. Pipes and the backside of glass tanks ran the length of it, and McGee's nose wrinkled at the fishy smell. A cacophonous sound resonated as all the pumps and filters hummed. He mentally noted where he was from the blueprints he'd downloaded earlier that night. _Left. Right. Left. Left. Under the pipes. Down the steps. Right. Up the steps. Door on the right._

Using the same tactic he had before, McGee placed the flashlight in his mouth, sprayed lubricant onto the hinges of the door, then pulled Ziva's lock-pick kit from his backpack. He made quick work of the lock, mentally thanking Ziva for the lessons she'd given the whole team earlier that month. The door swung outward and McGee clicked off his flashlight, stowing it in the pocket of his cargo shorts.

He cautiously peered out of the door and into the large hallway beneath the deep blue glow. McGee listened for the guards, but all he could hear was the bubbling of the filters. As the young agent stepped out into the hallway, his gaze swept upwards, toward the transparent walls that reached the ceiling. Then he spotted it. Hanging from the center of the ceiling of the large hallways was a sign.

**Sharks**

**Turtles**

**Gift Shop**

**Dolphins**

**Seals**

McGee nodded to himself, and he hurried off down the dark halls of the aquarium.

**XxXxXxXxXxXxX**

**Saturday Morning**

_I am but a lonely king upon this wandering sea_

_Ruler of nothing above and nothing below_

_From the deep I feel their pleas_

_As a being within me, begins to grow_

McGee's eyes snapped open. Heaving, his sweat covered chest shook with each labored breath. Slowly he glanced around, his vision taking in the reassuring sights of his bedroom. The sheets were twisted tightly about his body like a net. It took several minutes for his heart rate to slow, but even when it did, he felt that something was off.

But, McGee had grown accustomed to this feeling in the past few weeks.

Quickly he rolled over to his nightstand, grasping blindly at the pad of paper and pen, almost knocking them to the floor. As he switched on the lamp, he noticed his hands were shaking. Another relatively new development he'd grown used to. Rapidly he jotted down what he'd heard in his dream.

'_I am but a lonely king upon this wandering sea_

_Ruler of nothing above and nothing below_

_From the deep I feel their pleas_

_As a creature within me, begins to grow'_

He frowned at the words, then flipped through several previous pages. All seemed to be stanzas from poems. As he wiped more sweat from his brow, he read the last few nights of what he'd heard in his dreams.

_**Wednesday**_

_Save me, man upon dry land_

_Hear my cries, for we are same_

_I pray to feel you take my hand_

_And show me where we tried to remain_

**Thursday**

_Feel me in the sea_

_Feel what once was ours_

_Because we both yearn to be free_

_For the sea within our veins does course_

**Friday **(Tonight)

_We were in love, before_

_You and I, below the tide_

_Now hear my call from distant shores_

_From what you really are, you try to hide_

The young man tossed the notebook back onto his nightstand with a groan and relaxed back onto the bed. _What on earth is going on with me lately? _

He took several deep breaths. None of which made him feel any better. He tried again. _Nope, not feeling better_. His hands were still shaking as he pulled the covers over his body once more, frowning slightly at their damp state from his sweat.

He stared silently at the ceiling for an hour, listening to his heartbeat, until he heard his phone ring.

"McGee."

"Probie! Did you forget?"

"Forget what Tony? What time is it?"

"9:00. I know, I know, it's early for a Saturday."

"What do you want Tony?"

"Dang McGee, you really did forget, didn't you?"

"Forget what?" McGee annoyingly blurted.

"The aquarium! Remember? Abby hounded us for hours all last week to go with her. Something about a pregnant narwal or something. I don't know. We're meeting there at 10."

"Oh." McGee vaguely remembered. For the last few weeks, he had been in a daze from a lack of sleep, and the odd literature themed dreams he'd had.

"Sooo… are you going?"

"Yeah, sure Tony."

"Alright! At least I won't be alone with ninja woman and Abby. See you at 10."

"See you."

McGee hung up, tossing the phone with a thud somewhere by his feet on the bed. Reaching up, he rubbed his eyes, trying to rid himself of the words he'd heard in his sleep.

_The aquarium? On one of the only days in the past month we've been able to sleep in? No, Tim. It wasn't like you were sleeping anyway. You'll just have more dreams about the mystery voice speaking odd poetry. Seriously, what is wrong with you? Why can't you just be a normal human being? Why can't you just have normal life and dream normal dreams?_

Sighing, McGee rolled out of bed.

* * *

"MCGEE!" Abby screamed as she hurled herself into McGee.

"H-h-ey Abs." He muttered, face turning blue. Over Abby's shoulder he could see Ziva and Tony approaching around the parked cars in the lot of the aquarium. Tony, in a light jacket and jeans was rubbing sleep from his eyes. Ziva, who was in her telltale cargo pants and a thick flannel, looked perky as ever. Abby released McGee and took a deep breath.

"Okay! So we're going to see the baby beluga! Then we'll look at the seals! Then we'll see the little turtles! Then the dolphins! Oooh! I want to pet a dolphin! Then the sting rays… Timmy? Are you okay?"

The group looked at McGee, who was doubled over, hands on his knees. His head was spinning and he could feel pressure building up in his chest. It felt oddly similar to… _a breakup? A broken heart? Sadness? Depression? Tim, what the hell is wrong with you? _

Hurriedly, he straightened up and forced a grin.

"Sorry, just didn't sleep much last night. Ready to go?" He asked.

Abby squealed, then grasped both McGee's and DiNozzo's hands and pulled them along. Both men looked back at Ziva with 'help me' expressions. Only McGee noticed the questioning look of concern Ziva sent him.

* * *

The aquarium was more than crowded. Pictures of whales, dolphins, random fish, and other creatures adorned the blue walls. Dark blue wave designs wound their way past glass tanks and doors. McGee squinted his eyes at the sound of everyone talking at once.

Beneath the ocean themed decorations in the large halls were spectators from all around DC and the neighboring areas jostled close together, attempting to edge their way for the first look at the pregnant beluga; this included Abby. The group walked past booths and exhibits about ocean life, the environment, and small displays of sea creatures. After leaving Abby to hold their spot in the line (which was more like a mob), Tony, Ziva, and McGee headed deeper into the aquarium.

They passed tanks filled with jellyfish, tropical fish, eels, turtles, and even sea horses. McGee shoved his hands into his pockets to hide their shaking.

"Oooh!"

Both men turned to their partner, surprised looks on their faces. Ziva had gasped, brought her hands up to her face, and was looking ahead of her with childlike fascination. And in a moment that confused both agents, she turned to them, speaking adamantly.

"Can we see the seals? Pleeease?" Tony raised an eyebrow and looked sideways at her. McGee was almost forced to double over again. The pounding in his chest returned, but he kept his composure.

"Suuuure Zee. McGoo, you wanna see the seals?"

"U-umm, Okay." The younger agent stuttered. Tony looked from one partner to the other. Here was Ziva, acting like an enthralled six year old, and McGee was acting… well, more McGee-ish than normal.

Tony sighed. _This is going to be a loooong day DiNozzo. Good thing you brought that flask. _

Ziva grabbed McGee's hand, very similarly to the way Abby had earlier, and pulled him along. Tony hung back and took a swig from his flask.

* * *

McGee tried to keep up with Ziva as she jogged along, the ex Mossad agent laughing as they left the main building of the aquarium and headed outside. The concrete pathway, bordered by bushes and little signs with information on aquatic wildlife, led up and around a large rocky pool surrounded by a five foot thick glass wall. Greenish water lapped about lazily as a few seals lounged on the rocks, not giving their spectators any attention.

Ziva threw herself against the glass wall, resting her chin on the top as she stared down at the seals. In her eyes, was pure adoring bliss.

"Aren't they adorable, McGee!"

Tim nodded as he cautiously walked up to the glass. With shaking hands, he grasped the top of the wall. Closing his eyes and leaning down, the young agent pushed his forehead against the cool glass. _I can't do this. I need to leave._

"McGee! They're looking at us!"

As he opened his eyes slowly, he saw that Ziva was in fact right. Where the seals had been blissfully ignorant (or apathetic) to the countless humans' presence around them before, now they were all looking in the direction of Tim and Ziva. The former's brow furrowed. One seal in particular, seemed to be looking right at him. Right into his eyes. _No, that can't be right. What are they interested in?_

McGee focused. The seal was, without a doubt, staring directly at him. McGee expected it to be a passing gaze; a momentary glance, but no. The seal continued to stare deep into his eyes. Ziva glanced at him as she saw his hands shaking on the glass wall.

More seals were coming out of the water from the great depths of the tank to rest on the rocky platform. McGee could hear the crowds' excitement at seeing so many seals being active. Apparently this was unusual. As McGee tried to shake the longing 'broken heart' feeling that hadn't left, he heard two aquarium employees talking as they passed.

"I don't get it Deek, they've never acted like this! They're all just staring! I mean look at that!"

"You're not kidding Santio. What do you think would make the seals do that? Woh! Yeah, they're all coming out of the water!"

Tim had had enough. Or, he thought he had enough. He attempted to turn from the seal tank and head back inside. Maybe tell the others he wasn't feeling well (which they would have believed), and head home. But McGee simply stood, staring back at the seals, unable to move. All of them, including the young ones, had scrambled out of the water and were now sitting together, staring at the NCIS agents with unwavering eyes.

"McGee? Are you okay? Your hands are shaking." Ziva softly placed a hand on McGee's, slightly rubbing his knuckles with her thumb.

"Wow!" one of the acquarium attendants called out, pointing. The seals, almost in unison, silently turned from their watch of McGee, and lumbered back into the tank. Except for one. The one that had been watching McGee remained.

And it remained for one hour until Ziva literally pried McGee from the glass wall, and led him, as if he were in a blind stupor, towards the inside of the aquarium.

* * *

**One Hour Later**

"Hey Zee. McGoo. Enjoy the s-seals? (hiccup)" Tony asked, unsuccessfully trying to hide the whiskey on his breath.

"They were…" Ziva began, turning to Tim, who just stared past Tony and Abby, who was clutching a bulging plastic bag.

"They were… nice." She finished, still watching her partner closely. She could still hardly believe they had watched the seals for nearly an hour.

"Yeah, well, I think we're good to go. Abby covered the whole aquarium, and there's a _Die Hard _marathon on at 1:00."

McGee nodded, remaining mute, while Abby couldn't hold back.

"I got you presents!" The forensic scientist all but yelled.

"Yeah… she got you presents." Tony repeated, feeling the empty flask in his jacket.

In a blur, Abby reached into the bag, pulling from it a small plush shark.

"Ok Tony, you already saw this, but this is for you. And…"

She fished around in the bag after handing the senior agent the stuffed shark, who held it out away from his body as if someone had dropped a baby in his lap.

"And this is for you!" Abby handed Ziva a stuffed baby turtle, which Ziva took with a smile that reached her ears. She immediately nuzzled it up under her chin.

"Thank you Abby!"

"You're welcome. And Timmy…"

McGee's heart was pounding. Even though the plasting bag was opaque, he knew what it would be. He just knew. The 'heartbreak' feeling intensified and tears gathered in his eyes. Still, he didn't speak. He just couldn't.

"It's a seal!" Abby exclaimed, holding it out to him. McGee just stared.

"You know McAntisocial, when someone (hiccup) offers you a gift, you take it." Tony quipped. Abby's face immediately darkened.

"You don't like it McGee?"

"N-n-n-o. I do like i-it. T-thanks Abs." With a shaking hand, that the whole team blatantly noticed, McGee took the plush seal, cradling it as if he held a child. He stared into the black marble eyes. _Give me answers. Please, I need answers to this heartbreak._

* * *

_**Again, this story has been inspired by Enthusiastic Fish's 'Far Frae Ev'ry Strand' and 'On My Journey Home'.**  
_

_**You should seriously check them out, they're amazing. **_


	2. Chapter 2

**I Don't Own NCIS**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

The little plush seal rest calmly on McGee's bed. The sun was making its lazy descent over DC, but all was not well. The young agent, who had drug his desk chair into his bedroom, now sat, elbows on knees, fists under chin, staring at the seal. Jethro's head peeked into the bedroom for the fifth time in the past hour, concerned eyes of the dog taking in his master's unmoving position. The man had remained there for a good portion of the afternoon. Staring. At a stuffed animal.

With shaking hands he reached blindly below him, his fingers finding the glass that had once held a few shots of whiskey. Now only a puddle remained, which sloshed bitterly down the agent's throat.

McGee grit his teeth, resuming the staring contest with the toy.

_Who are you? There are no coincidences. Gibbs says there are no coincidences. There are no coincidences. _

McGee's analytical mind had hashed out a pattern from the odd events of the day.

He had doubled over in the parking lot when Abby had said how she wanted to see the seals. That was where he had the first 'heartbreak' sensation. He'd felt it again (but maintained his composure) when Ziva had then asked to see the seals. Once they'd gotten outside, the feeling had consumed him. The logical decision would have been to remove himself from what was causing him angst. _But I couldn't. I couldn't move. I couldn't leave._

Then, all the seals had stared at them. No, not them. Him. They stared at him. McGee picked up his glass, frowning at its vacancy. The one seal, a bit smaller than the others, had stared right in his eyes. Why did he notice that particular seal? _They're just seals, right Tim? Right?_

Then, something had caused them all, as one, to leave. They, all at once (save for the one), turned and entered the water. No, they hadn't just turned, but it was like they had fled.

McGee remembered wanting and trying to move, but until Ziva pulled him from the glass wall, he couldn't do it. Not on his own. Then, there was this.

McGee pointed with his whole hand at the stuffed seal on his bed, black marble eyes watching him calmly.

"I swear to god, if you move, or talk, or do anything a stuffed animal shouldn't, I'm going to freak out." McGee chuckled to himself, shaking his head. Now he was talking to an inanimate object. _Get it together McGee!_

His phone's ringtone woke him from the trance.

"McGee."

"Hello McGee."

"Ziva."

"So… how are you?" McGee crinkled his nose. He knew that the whole team had noticed his behavior today, but Ziva had a front row seat. From the morning, she had seen that something was wrong.

"How are you?"

"I'm…" McGee was at a loss of words. Such a simple question, but one of the most complex known to man. How are you. In what sense? Spiritually? Physically? Emotionally? Supernaturally?

"...fine, Zee. How are you?"

Ziva skirted McGee's courteous response.

"You did not seem… fine today. I was just…"

"Checking up on me?" McGee heard her huff on the other end. He frowned, knowing that Ziva wasn't the best with interpersonal emotional conversations. This was pretty big for her, to call and simply inquire as to the emotional state of a coworker.

"Yes." She finally admitted. "You did not seem yourself today."

She took a deep breath.

"I just wanted to make sure everything was… well."

Silence.

"McGee?"

McGee's eyes were wide, still staring at the seal, his eyebrows almost touching what little bangs he had.

"I got it!" he exclaimed, standing from the chair.

"Got what, McGee?"

"Look Zee, thanks for calling. Really. But I have to go. I've… my muse came back. I need to write. Now."

"But-" Ziva replied, half offended that her attempt to reach out on a personal level to the agent who had first shown her friendship on the team was blowing her off, and half just plain perplexed at his actions.

"Gotta go Ziva! I'll see you at work. Bye!" Tim kicked himself for hanging up on Ziva, but he had had a thought. And maybe, just maybe, it would provide answers.

"Tim!" Ziva yelled into the phone, but he was already gone. She stared at it for a moment, slightly hurt. This was not like McGee. Polite, 'bend over backwards' for you McGee. Slowly, she pushed the phone into her pocket, grabbed her keys and a jacket from the back of her couch, and left her apartment.

Within seconds, her car was headed towards McGee's.

But once she arrived, she saw that his car was gone. Her Mossad mind started working overtime. She ran through the list of places he could go. Then, with that list of places (all pertaining to his behavior today) in mind, she assessed any steps he would take before heading to said locations. _That aquarium! Where his odd mood began! You still got it, Ziva!_

Rubber burned as she sped out of the parking lot.

But McGee wasn't at the aquarium. Not yet.

* * *

"Hey Bill. Yeah, I know it's late, just got some extra work Gibbs wants me to finish up."

The middle aged security guard at NCIS smiled at McGee. He'd heard the excuse countless times from the young agent.

"At this hour? I know Gibbs, but come on Tim! It's Saturday night! Live a little!"

"Sorry, Bill. Already lived today." McGee smiled. Or did his best to imitate what a smile was supposed to look like. Bill leaned into the car window from his booth.

"And what might that have been?" It was less an accusation of a lie, but more friendly wondering what someone like Timothy McGee would consider 'living' be. Bill continued.

"Heard Abby talking about going to the aquarium. That what you call living?"

McGee's heart tore into pieces. He softly nodded, while Bill cocked his head.

"Alright Tim, go ahead. If you wanna live, and you're done in a couple hours, I might be grabbing a beer with Tony when I get off. You're welcome to join. And by the way, your car smells like fish." Bill smiled broadly.

McGee nodded again, then drove through the gate, his heart pounding.

* * *

**Three Hours Later**

McGee glanced around himself as he walked through the Navy Yard parking lot. He had spent the last few hours hacking into the aquarium security systems, cameras and alarms. He set them to go dark just after 3:00 am. He'd found the work schedule of the security guards on duty, checked their backgrounds to see whether they would be threats, and downloaded and memorized the blueprints of the inner workings and back halls. _Yep Tim, you've covered your bases. Now, the origin. The source. _

McGee, with his nerves a wreck, didn't notice the small car follow him from the Navy Yard and onto the highway.

* * *

Ziva made a quick turn when she saw McGee's car turn into the lot of a park a few blocks from the aquarium.

She had kicked herself earlier when she found the aquarium parking lot devoid of McGee's car. She had even cruised the surface streets to see if he had parked a bit off site. Nothing. It then clicked. NCIS. And with that, she had been correct. She had seen his car through the gates, but kept driving until she could park in a location with a clear view of the gate. Then she waited.

Now, McGee was where she'd thought he'd be. She turned off her car, staring through the windshield at his. The car, even though it wasn't running, bounced around a bit. It was when she saw through his window McGee pull on a black sweatshirt and pull black gloves on her fingers did she gasp. _What the hell?_

In an instant, McGee was out of the car, looking incredibly suspicious in all black as he hurried along towards the aquarium, glancing over his shoulder. Ziva pulled on a sweatshirt and got out of the car.

She had followed him through the side door into the aquarium, still not believing he was doing what he was doing. _And with my lock-pick kit, too!_ Aside from the 'breaking and entering', Ziva was confused about the situation. But, something inside her told her to simply follow, and not confront. Not yet.

McGee's combat boots squeaked quietly on the polished aquarium floor. His heart beat furiously, and it wasn't from the actions he was taking. The 'heartbreak' feeling seemed to be getting worse, but better at the same time. He knew this was the right thing to do.

He easily recognized the landmarks from yesterday, and was soon walking along the concrete path that bordered the seal tank. Thankfully, all the lights were off. He approached the glass wall, then hoisted himself over it, feet landing firmly on the rocky platform. Crouching for a moment, McGee surveyed the seal tank.

The rocky platform was about 20 yards wide and the same in length. It gradually sloped downward until it was underwater, allowing the seals easy access in and out of the water. _So that they can be stared at. So they can be gawked at. Like they're in prison. By God damn-_.

McGee clasped a hand over his mouth. Even though he'd only been thinking the words he was surprised. _Where did that come from?_ It was as if something had taken control of his thoughts for a moment, leaving him blisteringly angry about the seals captivity. He shook his head, and waited.

It didn't take long for his presence to be regarded. One, then another seal head popped out of the dark water, watching him closely. More and more of the seals surfaced, but not drawing closer. They watched him cautiously, turning every so often to one another, then returning their gaze to the agent. After five or so minutes, one seal head closed the gap in the water and the being crouched on the rocks. It fearlessly climber out of the water and began to shuffle over to McGee. Despite the utter obscurity of the situation, McGee was not frightened. He simply remained. And slowly, involuntarily, the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile. The seal, the same one that had remained staring at him when the others had left, was within a few feet of the agent. How McGee recognized it, he had no idea.

"Hi." the man spoke.

The seal nodded, it's knowing eyes locked with his.

"Who are you?"

The seal turned its head to the side.

"Why do I feel better now?"

The animal kept looking at him. The words McGee uttered next surprised him. It was similar to the thought he had had earlier; as if something was taking control of his mind.

"Who am I?"

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, the seal nodded, bringing a fore flipper up to its chest. McGee looked at it, confused, his logical mind telling him that this was insane. That he was insane.

McGee watched as the seal's flipper pressed against its chest, and tightened. The agent's eyes widened as he saw the grey skin come apart, as if there were a seam in it. Beneath the grey fur, was pink. Skin. Very, very, human looking skin. McGee gasped, falling backwards with a splash, his head slamming against the glass wall.


	3. Chapter 3

**I don't own NCIS. And I'm not 100% on the direction of this story, so feel free to comment and give me ideas of where you think it can.**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

_'We are but one, in a mirror we're two_

_Accept the siren's call_

_Gentle prod, to rise within you_

_Within me as well, for duality is all'_

The young agent's eyes fluttered open, then shut again. Against his eyelids he saw images of the night before.

Water. Seal. Woman. Seal. Ziva. Flashlights. Staring down at his feet as he stumbled along. Ziva's arm around his waist. His arm flung over her shoulder. Car door. Looking back. Reaching back. Ziva stopping him. Car. Lights. Apartment. Not mine. Bed.

Painfully, his eyes opened again. Then Tim gasped. Ziva. Glancing around himself swiftly, McGee took in the sights of what appeared to be Ziva's guest bedroom. Propped awkwardly in a loveseat in the corner, was Ziva, a quilt that had sometime during the night, fallen from her shoulders. Upon McGee's movements, she stirred as well.

"Good morning, McGee." She bit her tongue at sounding harsher than she'd intended. McGee gulped.

"Is it?" he replied rather tersely. He reached up, rubbing the back of his head. A golf ball sized knot had formed. He waited for it, counting down in his head.

_10, 9, 8, 7, 6-_

"Timothy McGee! What were you thinking?" Ziva snapped, standing from the loveseat as she began pacing.

_Ziva, you have no idea. I have no idea. _

"You broke into an aquarium! You climbed into the seal tank! And the seal…" and for the first time since last night, Ziva was able to focus on the oddity of what happened. Last night, she was only focused on getting an obviously concussed McGee out of the aquarium before the police arrived. She had no time to mull over what she had witnessed. McGee looked sheepishly into his lap.

"I don't know, Ziva."

And that was the truth. He had no clue what was going on. He had no idea what the dreams meant. He had no idea where his unsettling emotional distress was coming from. Maybe that was what made it so bad, not knowing. Having no clue, how, why, or where even it all had come from.

"The seal came up to you."

"Wait a minute!" McGee snapped his fingers. "Why were you there?"

"Do not turn this on me!" Ziva barked, eyes narrowing.

"I'm not! I just… want to know why you were there, too."

Ziva stopped pacing, placed her hands on her hips and expelled a breath, shaking her head.

"I followed you."

"You what?" McGee sat forward in the bed, then leaned back again, realizing he was shirtless.

"Did you not hear me? I followed you. I wanted…" She paused and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"You wanted to what, Ziva?"

"...make sure you were alright. What is wrong with that?" Ziva shot, glaring hard at McGee, who shifted uneasily in the bed.

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong with that."

The two allowed a silence to follow, that spoke volumes of how confusing the situation was becoming. After some time, McGee spoke so quietly that Ziva had to lean in.

"What did you say?"

"I said thanks, Ziva. Sometimes…" McGee let out a deep breath, "...it doesn't seem like people care. It's... it's nice to know someone cares. That someone actually gives a damn."

The woman cocked her head to the side. More silence followed.

"McGee?"

"I should go. Thanks… f-f-for taking c-care of me." The last four words were accompanied by threatening tears. Ziva's anger left instantly. What replaced it, she didn't understand. _Take care of him? What does that even mean?_

The poor woman, given her difficult past, couldn't wrap hear mind around 'taking care of' someone. While she was more attune to emotions than the others believed she was, she wasn't perfect. A life of being molded since birth by a militaristic father whose only focus is national security can do terrible things to the developing emotional being of a little girl. Considering this past, Ziva felt she was making considerable progress. But still, sometimes she reverted. Like now.

"I did what I had to." Heart of stone. McGee nodded, biting his cheeks, then glanced to the nightstand as his phone blared noisily.

"McGee."

"TimmyTimmyTimmyTimmy! Did you hear?" McGee held his phone away from his ear and grimaced at Abby's volume.

"Hear what Abs?" Next came Tony's voice.

"Abby and I were watching the news. Someone broke into the aquarium last night!"

McGee paled. Which with his skin tone, rendered him near translucent.

"Someone…. What?"

"Broke into the aquarium last night! Can you believe that Timmy?"

"And McGoo, get this. A seal is missing."

McGee shot Ziva a look and beckoned her to come closer as he turned the phone onto 'speaker' mode.

"Say again Tony?" he asked.

"Someone broke into the aquarium last night. And apparently stole a seal. Who would steal a seal?" Tony asked rhetorically. Abby answered him.

"Well, I would. I would love a seal for my own. Wouldn't you?"

"No Abs, I wouldn't."

"Why?" Abby sounded hurt.

"Think about it, what do you feed a seal?"

"Fish, Tony. Of course."

"Where do you keep a seal Abs?"

"In the bathtub." Abby replied matter of factly.

Ziva and McGee exchanged looks as they listened to Tony and Abby bicker. He quickly picked up his phone and checked the time. 8:21am, Sunday morning. _What are Abby and Tony doing together so early on a-._

"McGoo! Did you see anyone suspicious when you were looking at the seals?"

"Huh?"

"Did. You. See. Anyone. Suspicious. Yesterday? Jeez McOblivious, you were watching the seals for damn near an hour. Thought you'd maybe see someone acting a little off."

"No. I didn't. I was watching the seals."

"I mean, seriously though, Probie, where do you even take a seal?"

"Ummm to the sea, Tony, of course!"

"I was asking McGoo, Abs."

"Ow, okay, stop pinching me! Call you lat-"

The call ended, leaving McGee and Ziva staring at the phone.

"The sea." McGee whispered. Ziva just stared at him.

"You're in no condition to-."

"I have to go, Ziva."

"But, why?" She blurted out, staring to pace again.

"I… I don't know! I don't know!" Ziva took a step back, understanding immediately that if McGee was raising his voice, something was definitely wrong.

"I don't know why, but I have to. It's the dreams, Ziva. And… And you saw me at the seal tank! I don't know what is going on. Hell, I feel like I don't even know myself anymore. Where are my pants?"

Ziva took a deep breath, not able to hold back a smile. She pointed to the floor. As McGee pulled his pants from the floor and attempted to put them on while still underneath the covers (blushing the whole time), Ziva took a seat on the bed.

"I'm going with you."

"No, Ziva."

"Then walk to the aquarium, McGee. I drove you here. You're car is still there." In her eyes was a triumphant smirk.

"Fine, we'll go."

"Good."

"And Ziva?"

"Yes, McGee?"

"You're sitting on my leg."

Ziva jumped up and left the guest bedroom. McGee watched her go, then finished dressing.

* * *

Ziva pulled into the parking lot at the beach closest to her apartment slowly. It was just after 9:00 am. As she killed the ignition, she noticed McGee's hands in fists, gripping his jeans just over his knees. She slowly reached over and patted his thigh. McGee literally jumped.

"Oh, sorry Zee. Just-."

"Tense?"

"Yeah."

"I'll keep my distance then."

McGee glanced apologetically at her. She pushed his shoulder.

"Go."

He nodded, stepping out of the car, walking briskly yet unsteadily onto the sand and towards the sea. Ziva waited a few seconds, then quietly exited the car as well, following him at a distance.

McGee didn't know why, but he felt this was the right place. He didn't even know what that meant. As he descended the gradually sloping sand towards the water, he assessed what he knew.

_Something is wrong with me, and I felt the most at peace in the seal tank. She'll be at the sea. She'll-._

McGee stopped mid-thought, and also mid-stride.

_She? She? How do I know that?_

He pressed his palms into his eyes. _What is wrong with me? Oh God, please just let me be normal. Seriously, God, I don't want to be beautiful, or rich, or live forever. I just want to be normal. Please._

He was startled by a low wave passing lazily by his ankles. Eyes open, he glanced around the beach. Nothing, save for a few gulls and a low morning ocean fog.

McGee dropped to the sand, pulled his knees to his chest, and stared.

He didn't even notice her presence beside him until she spoke.

"You came."


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you all for the reviews! Helped spurn me on.**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

McGee (even though seated on the sand) stumbled sideways. Here he was, a professional investigator and a writer. Both had trained him to notice things. To pay attention to detail. How had he not even noticed the woman approach? Maybe it was the raucous gulls, or the rumble of the tide. Whatever it may have been, without his notice, the woman sat next to him. He stared at her for a few moments in disbelief, then tore his eyes from her upon noticing her state.

She was completely naked, yet wrapped tightly in a deep grey blanket. Her hair was black, and fell halfway down her back. She smiled as he tried to remain calm, struggling to stay seated.

"You…" he began before his mouth hung open.

"I…?"

"You… who… who are you?" His voice emerged as a muttering whisper.

Her smile remained as she turned to look out at the waves, her face was that of perfection. Men would kill for a woman with her beauty. But something was different.

"Who am I? Is it I, you should be asking that question?" She asked quietly, sweetly even. McGee's head was spinning. _What? _He repeated the question.

"Are you…? Who are you? What is your name?"

She shook her head, laughing a little.

"I am the sea."

"You… are the sea." McGee replied incredulously.

"I am." Her black hair tumbled backwards in the wind. McGee was mesmerized.

"Why are you here?" He finally asked.

"Why are you?" She replied, her deep grey eyes locking with his.

McGee bit his lip. He honestly didn't know. Except to… see her. He lied.

"I don't know."

"You do."

"I do?"

"Yes." She spoke honestly, as if there were no question in the matter.

"Do you know?"

"I do."

"Why am I here then?"

"That you must know yourself."

McGee turned his gaze from her, staring out into the waves. He didn't mind that every time one would break, the residual would rush past him. His pants and the bottom of his shirt was now completely soaked through. But oddly, he didn't mind. Something about the woman brought… warmth.

And that's when he realized it. The heartbreak feeling and the depression, was gone. His eyebrows jumped and he even smiled slightly. The heartbreak was gone!

"Are you happy?" she asked.

He turned to her in awe. How did she know? His smile was faint at best. There's no way she could have discerned that smile as happiness from her angle.

"Yes." He replied.

"No." Immediately it felt as if the heartbreak came back.

"No?" His tone cut through the wind. She spoke, unfazed.

"No. You are not."

"I'm not."

"That is correct."

"How would you know?" McGee asked, a tinge of frustration beginning to build.

"I know you. And I know you are not happy. You have never been."

The words hit him like a shotgun shell. Tears began to build. _Never been happy?_ McGee scratched his chin with his thumb, whispering.

"I've never been happy."

"You have not."

"Why have I never been happy?"

"That you must know yourself."

At hearing the same answer from before, which McGee saw as a cop-out, his anger finally rose. He turned to her, crosslegged and pointed.

"How would you know if I'm happy? I've never seen you in my life. You mean nothing to me! How can you come to me and say that I'm not happy? You don't know me!"

"I do." She replied calmly, still smiling, but McGee could see rosiness creeping into her cheeks. Her beautiful, dimpled cheeks. He shook that thought out.

"You do, huh? Look, I am happy! I've got a family. Not a perfect one, but a family. I have a great job, with people I enjoy. I'm happy, okay!" As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he was more trying to convince himself." He then repeated his last question. "You don't know me."

"I do."

"Can you give me an answer that isn't so god damn cryptic?"

"Not when you know the answers." McGee had had enough. He stood roughly, wet sand and sea water falling from his clothes.

"I don't know the answers! If I knew the answers about happiness, then you think I'd have gone for that by now huh?"

She looked up at him, unmoving.

"I mean, it's only logical, right? If you know how to get happiness, you'd do it?" He shot sarcastically. His company rose beside him, staring deep into his eyes.

"It is because you don't know yourself." She spoke calmly, sadly even, as if that statement threatened her own emotions.

"I...I… what?" McGee blurted out, pausing for a moment to stare at her open mouthed before continuing.

"Then help me out here! Give me a hint or something. There's a reason you're here. There's a reason for this. That I came here, on a hunch, and you came, to talk to me. This doesn't… doesn't just happen."

The last three words came out in a confused, questioning whisper. He stared at his feet as more water rushed past his ankles. The tide was changing. He shut his eyes tight, trying to wake up from the confusion that he was experiencing. The sea breeze blew through his hair, and for a moment he thought of somewhere far away. A place he'd seen only in his dreams. He knew not of where it lay, but he knew that somehow, it might just hold comfort.

Then he felt her head in the crook of his neck, her back against his chest.

"Wah!" He gasped, stumbling backwards. As he lay upon the sand, looking up at the beautiful being before him, he heard her laugh. It was music. It was joyous. And it broke his heart. She reached down to offer him a hand, which he reluctantly took, now self conscious about grabbing the hand of someone so beautiful.

"You are different." She whispered as he steadied himself on his feet. Even though she had helped pull him up, she hadn't stepped backwards to allow him room to stand. They were inches apart, and she hadn't released his hand.

"I'm different? H-how?"

"You are… not like others. That is why you are here." McGee was in shock. Finally, an answer, Unfortunately, it was no less cryptic than the half answers before.

"Because I'm different, I'm here."

She only smiled and took a step back, tugging at his hand.

"Walk?"

He nodded, throwing a glance up to the dunes. Ziva would have been somewhere hiding amongst them. But, as if his counterpart could read his mind, she again addressed his thoughts.

"Who is she?"

McGee tried to backpedal.

"Who is who?"

They wound their way along the waters edge, between the shorebreak and some large boulders. Out of sight.

"The woman. From the there."

She pointed towards the parking lot, though it was now hidden by the rocks. McGee caught a glimpse of her bare chest as she pointed. He blushed, not knowing whether to offer her his jacket. Despite his gentlemanly qualities, he resisted.

"She is…" He began, but she interrupted.

"Yours?"

"My what?"

"Yours."

"My… my what? Is she my what?" he repeated, brows furrowing.

"Your mate."

"My WHAT?" McGee gasped, never in his life daring to voluntarily use the words 'mate' and 'ziva' in the same thought. It may have happened involuntarily though, truth be told.

She laughed at his response. That laugh again. God, he loved that laugh.

"No, Z-… the woman is not my mate." he explained, thinking of his dismal love life. _I'll never have a 'mate', however archaic that term is._

She nodded, sensing his sadness. McGee felt her hand tighten on his, then she whispered.

"It is right."

"What is?" She stopped them at a point where they were the most hidden from the rest of the beach. They were still on sand, but surrounded by the large sea rocks, creating a hidden beach alcove. No one could see them. They were completely alone.

"This. You. You are different. And that makes it right."

He pulled from her grip, albeit reluctantly, but didn't step back.

"What is right? Why am I different? How am I different? Tell me, what makes me different than the others?" He was pleading now, the heartbreak steadily returning.

"I cannot answer that." She looked away from him. "But you are different. And that makes it right."

Without any warning, tears began falling from McGee's eyes. The intensity of the situation had finally outweighed his stoicism. He fell to his knees, grinding fists into the sand. Through broken sobs and blurred vision, he choked out a question.

"Were… were you the… one who-who came to me in the tank? In the aquarium? Was that you?"

She knelt down in front of him, one hand holding the blanket about her shoulders, the other cupping his cheek, raising his eyes to hers. Deep green met dark grey.

"You should ask him."

McGee looked at her through tears, knowing that she wasn't answering his question, and he highly doubted whoever 'he' was, would know if she was the one he had been with in the aquarium.

"Ask who?"

"You know who. You feel it. He can tell you answers, if you need assistance. And if you need assistance, it has been far too long."

McGee began sobbing again, his body quivering.

"Far too long for what?" She ignored the question, turning towards a faint splashing sound just off the coast.

"I must go."

"What? No! You haven't told me ANYTHING!" The last word rose over the rumble of the waves. He dropped his head.

"You haven't told me anything. Nothing."

"I've told you what you can handle for now. It has been far too long. But you are not too far gone."

McGee wanted to ask, _to far gone for what,_ but figured asking any further questions would be as futile as the ones before. He kept his silence, leaning into her hand on his cheek as she stepped back. Quickly wiping the tears from his eyes, he saw her round the rocks, then heard a splash. He ran across the sand, following her path until it dipped down into deep water. He saw nothing. Not even the blanket. The heartbreak wholly and completely returned.

* * *

"McGee!" Ziva called, running over to him as he walked briskly back to the parking lot.

"McGee, who was she? What did she say?" Ziva asked, an edge in her voice.

"Take me home, Ziva." Ziva looked at her partner, confused.

"What?"

"Take me to my car. I still need my car. Then I need to go home."

"Tim, what-." Worry worked its way into her voice.

"Please. Please, Ziva. Just take me to my car. I want to go home. I need to go home."

He walked past her. She went to place her hand on his shoulder to ground him, steady him even, but it was like he didn't even feel it. His face was in pain, but blank at the same time as he pushed past her.. She watched him walk away, biting her lip and cursing in Hebrew. _What had happened down there? Why is McGee acting like this? What did that woman say to him?_

Ziva shook her head, hurting for her obviously distraught friend, then jogged towards the car. The two got in, and remained in silence until they reached McGee's car. The young agent got out, shutting the door behind him without saying a word. She watched him worriedly as he got into his car, completely disregarding the parking ticket on the windshield as he turned the vehicle on and sped off.

McGee's car disappeared around a turn and Ziva took a deep breath. She needed to know what was going on. And she would find out.

* * *

Timothy McGee knew who would know. He knew the 'he', the woman at the beach had talked about. Tim knew who she had been referring to. Hesitantly, the young agent entered an almost forgotten number into his phone, hands shaking and breath quavering as he did. When he heard the man's gruff voice, his heart hitched, but he spoke.

"Admiral McGee speaking."

"Dad."

"Tim?"

"Yes sir."

The old Colonel was audibly surprised, skeptical that he was in fact talking to his only son. It had been years. A decade, even. McGee could hear the Admiral remove himself from the mildly noisy room he was in. The background voices faded.

"Why… Tim. What… How are… how are you?"

The younger McGee could hear the faint softness of emotions creeping into his father's genuine tone of voice. With it, was guilt. McGee was on the verge of tears as well.

"Dad, I need to know something."

"Alright, son. Ummm Alright."

McGee bit back tears, barely being able to form the question that had haunted him for his entire life. It was a question that he'd never had a straight answer from the older man, and he had learned to stop asking. Now, he needed the answer. He just felt it. He needed to know.

"Dad… what was mom like?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you all again for the reviews! Love it when I get questions and ideas pertaining to the direction of the tale. I hope you're enjoying it! **

* * *

**Chapter 5**

_"Dad… what was mom like?"_

The question tore through Admiral McGee's heart. He knew this would come, eventually. Idealistically, he'd hoped it would never come up. At least, not with the urgency in his son's voice. Sure, both Tim and Sarah had asked him that numerous times while they were growing up, but satisfying the pained curiosity of children with a truth the Admiral wasn't sure of himself proved impossible for a single father in the Navy.

The old man sighed and brought a wrinkled hand to his brow.

"Tim…" He began.

"Please, Dad."

After some silence, Tim could hear his father talking to whoever had been in the other room before. He couldn't make out the words, but the tone was apologetic. His father was asking his guests to leave.

"Tim?"

"I'm here, Dad."

"Why do you ask?"

"She was my mother, wasn't she? I want to know."

The Admiral took a deep breath, then spoke quietly.

"Do you have some time, son?"

"As much as you need."

"Okay." The old man began. "Okay."

* * *

**Date: January 25th, 1978 (34 Years Ago)**

**Location: United States Naval Base, Holy Loch, Scotland**

"Ben! Benji! Put that thing down McGoo!" The African-American sailor leapt over the knee-knockers in the hull of the U.S.S. Holland and into the living quarters of himself and Petty Officer Benjamin McGee. Benjamin was sitting on the bottom bunk, a white tanktop, service pants, and boots, clutching a photo in both hands. Petty Officer Abraham Darius looked intently at his bunkmate.

"I can't believe it Darius. I… just can't believe it. We, w-were gonna get married when I got back."

Darius frowned.

"I know man, I know. I'm sorry my man."

Darius took a seat next to his bunkmate and best friend in the Navy, throwing an arm over his shoulders. They sat for a moment in silence, or, in as much silence as one could have within the hull of a large naval vessel. Benjamin let the picture of his love back stateside linger to the ground, like a leaf in fall. Darius squeezed his friend's shoulders.

"Now come on now! We got leave for the night! And tomorrow, we're gonna be headin' round the northside of this God forsaken island."

Benjamin glanced up.

"More training?"

Darius laughed.

"Yeah my man! Damn, your head's really been in the clouds. Captain Wigley's been reminding us every goddamn five minutes. Still can't say his name without smirking."

"And that's got you in a ton of trouble lately eh D?" Benjamin chuckled. Darius' face lit up, watching his friend smile.

"There ya go my man! Now let's do this! And check this."

Darius reached into his breast pocket, pulling from it a little box with shiny cursive writing on it. Benjamin's eyebrows shot up.

"How the hell you get Davidoff's D?"

Darius broke out into a toothy grin as he stuffed the pack of cigarettes back into his pocket.

"Now you get changed and we'll head out. Those smoke's are yours an' mine Benji. Let's go out, grab a drink, a smoke, and a lass. That's what the Scotts call 'em, yeah?"

Benjamin laughed.

"Yeah D, sounds good. Let's do this."

Darius slapped Benjamin's thigh and jumped up.

Ben watched his friend gather a new set of civilian-ish clothes in preparation for the night.

* * *

"D… D… Why'd she leave?" Benjamin slurred, dragging hard on a Davidoff. Darius wrapped his arm around Ben's shoulders as they walked along Argyll Street. Half of the gesture was to comfort his friend, and half was to steady both drunken seamen. Both sailors' vision was moving from clear to fuzzy. They tucked their navy issue black peacoats around them as they briskly walked along. The sky had thickened with clouds, and little flags on the lampposts whipped violently. Almost as one, the two staggered towards the nearest place of refuge.

"She ain't good for you McGee. Simple a-as that. You'll be alright. You always w-will."

Ben sighed. They had just left The Clansmen Bar, where many of the sailors frequented while on shore leave. While Darius knew the name had no relation to the Klansmen of the KKK, he still felt a bit odd enjoying himself in an establishment with such a name. So, after a couple beers and just as many shots, they head out. Ahead of them lay MacClure's, and beyond that was The Brewery. First stop was MacClure's, where the two friends smoked and drank more pints, mingling with their fellow soldiers. Even though the beer flowed and hearty laughs were had, Darius saw the pain of heartbreak in Benjamin's eyes. The black man shook his head, hitching the corner of his mouth upwards. _McGee always gets attached. Way too fast._

They had more beer and settled several bets (with more rounds of drinks) when Darius pulled out the last two Davidoffs in the pack. Both sailors stared at the two cigarettes sorrowfully. They lit up, and breathed deep.

When a group of their navy brethren began bickering with a group of Scots, an impending brawl brewing, the two took their leave, inhaling down to the filter on their smokes before tossing them onto the white brick sidewalk.

"Yo man, I hear Ingram's is rad. Isss still early." Darius slurred. Ben stared southeast.

"I'm gonna get another pack of suh-smokes. I'll m-meet you there." Darius nodded as the two hugged, the black man giving a firm squeeze before releasing.

The two parted, and Ben stumbled along Argyll Street, before turning left and crossing A815. He hopped the fence into Gourock Vehicle Assembly Point, which was currently occupied by the vehicles of the bar patrons. He made his way south through the lot, watching the white lines in the parking lot pass beneath his feet until he reached Dunoon Ferry Terminal. After clambering most ungracefully over a locked gate, McGee made his way out over the sea on the damp boardwalk along the terminal until he reached the end.

The heartbroken man rest his elbows on the gate, looking to the sea for answers. A cold wind blew, but with the alcohol in his system, he merely felt the wind. Then, he felt a cheek on his shoulder.

Ben jumped to the left, his coordination left lacking from the booze, causing him to tumble onto the boardwalk. He tried desperately to focus on the figure standing above him. He could see bare feet, bare legs, then something grey, like a large sweater or blanket draping loosely around bare shoulders. He stared up at her, mouth open as her blonde hair blew long in the wind. She, in silence and with a grin, reached a hand down to him.

He looked into eyes, that were almost as dark as the sky behind her, then nodded, taking hold. She pulled him up with grace. The two stared at each other for a moment, the male in surprise and the woman in what looked like assessment. Then she nodded, turning to rest her elbows on the rail.

"You came."

Ben glanced towards the shore some 30 yards away. He could hear the sounds of the bars. Darius would be there. Ben wished he had invited Darius along, then this would have seemed alot less awkward. Or more so. McGee couldn't figure which. He turned back to the rail, carefully, slowly, resting his elbows on the rail beside the woman. A storm was rolling in. She slid over until they were touching.

"You came." The woman repeated, snapping Ben out of his trance. He turned his head awkwardly.

"Who… who are you?" Ben asked, attempting not to slur his speech. It didn't work.

She merely smiled, looking out over the sea. They stood for some time, before the woman turned to him. That's when Ben really saw her. She was beautiful, beyond anything he could have ever imagined a woman could look like. His jaw dropped.

Before he could raise it again, she reached out grabbing his hand.

"Stay with me?"

Ben only nodded. He'd be a fool to deny-

* * *

Tim McGee heard through the phone pounding on his father's door. Admiral Benjamin McGee grunted as he stood.

"Hang on, Tim. Someone's at the door."

McGee only nodded, tracks of old tears drying, and new tears wetting his cheeks. He leaned back slowly in his desk chair, staring at the plush seal that still sat on his bed, watching him.

After a short time, Ben spoke into the phone again. His tone, apologetic.

"Look son, I-"

"Need to go? Got it." McGee blurted. He could almost hear the old man's tears.

"It's not like that, Tim, please. I have to… take care of some business. I'll finish the story, I promise."

Tim nodded.

"Dad?"

"Yeah, son?"

"Did she love me?"

The elder McGee inhaled, and Tim could hear his breath stutter as it caught on tears.

"More than anything in the world."

Tim nodded, driving his teeth into his lower lip to control his emotions.

"Talk to you soon, Tim?"

"Yeah."

"Alright… well, goodbye, son."

"Bye, D-dad."

Both McGee's whispered, "I love you" into dead receivers.

* * *

Ben rubbed a wrinkled hand down his face, the tears smearing until both cheeks were glistening. Quickly, he ran a handkerchief over them, then stood, pulling taught his tucked in dress shirt.

In his living room was the assistant the Navy had assigned to him.

"James."

"Admiral."

James cleared his through, rather nasally, and spoke.

"Doctor Hawkins just received the results of your blood test, sir. He wants to see you."

Benjamin nodded, his eyes darkening allowing James to lead him out of the apartment.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

McGee stared at his phone. His eyes hurt. His cheeks hurt. His stomach hurt. Everything hurt. He was exhausted. He hadn't slept in over 24 hours, and the fear of hearing the voice in his dreams built a resistance within him to slumber. But he needed to sleep.

Standing, the agent crawled forward onto his bed, reclining on his back. He pulled the little stuffed seal under his chin. It immediately reminded him of the woman on the beach. Gritting his teeth, he closed his eyes.

'_Now you have seen_

_From the north, you come_

_There is a place in between_

_Where you come from'_

* * *

"Tim?"

Tim sat bolt upright in bed upon hearing the voice.

"Ziva? What are you doing here? Why didn't you knock?"

McGee tried to hide the seal behind him when he saw Ziva standing in the doorway of his bedroom. She looked at him with a soft expression, sadness in her eyes.

"I pounded on the door. I called your cell. I yelled for you. Not in that order. My only other option was to pick your lock." She explained as she took a seat next to him on the bed. McGee shifted uncomfortably.

"But I have your lock pick kit."

"Do you believe I only have one?" Ziva smirked.

McGee only nodded in response.

"You… have been crying?" Ziva asked innocently, attempting to shape her tone to sound in no way accusing.

McGee snorted.

"No!" He blurted, then saw that there was no getting around it.

"Yeah, I was… Ok look, please don't-"

"I won't tell Tony." McGee exhaled.

"Good."

"Or make fun of you. Tim, what is wrong?"

_What is wrong? Try everything, Ziva. Try everything._

Tim shook his head again.

"Tim."

"Why are you calling me Tim all of a sudden?" McGee changed subjects, looking into his partner's eyes.

"It's not like you've ever tried calling me anything but McGee before. Why start with Tim now?"

"I-"

"Because you see how messed up I am? That my life isn't perfect?"

"McGee-"

"No need to switch back. I like when you call me Tim."

"Then tell me what is wrong!" The Israeli pleaded, leaning towards him, compassion in her eyes. McGee took a deep breath, pulling the stuffed seal around him and placing it on his lap. Ziva watched as his jaw clenched, his lips moving as he tightly gripped the little seal.

"What did you say?" she asked.

"I said I wish this had never come to me." His voice emanated angst. Ziva understood he wasn't talking about the stuffed toy. She kept her silence, urging him to continue.

"You're calling me Tim now then? Is it because you've seen me vulnerable? You've seen me exposed? Maybe because I have no family, really, except Sarah? I just spoke to my father for the first time in 11 years and 6 months! Maybe it's because I never knew my mother. That I never had a mother to say she loved me?"

Ziva's face exploded with surprise.

"You never knew your mother? But, haven't you said, that your mother 'raised a gentlemen' to us before?"

"I lied." McGee spoke concisely.

"But-"

"Look Ziva," McGee began, scooting away from her to lean back against the headboard, "don't pretend to care. Not now. Try caring when things are alright. It's easy to care when things are all wrong. People notice things more that way. But not now. I'm just… not in the mood."

Ziva watched as a new set of tears began falling down McGee's cheeks. He had loosened his grip on the seal and was now involuntarily stroking its fur with his thumb.

She was hurt. It wasn't just the words, but the sincerity of his tone. He truly believed, that his team didn't care about him. Her mouth hung open for a moment, not believing what was happening. Her partner continued speaking.

"It's like, everything just… goes to shit. I'm not normal Ziva. I'm just," his breathing wavered as he fought the lump in his throat, "I'm not normal. You know, when I was young, I used to pray for my dad's safety. For Sarah. For starving people around the world. Now, I just pray that I could be normal. That I can be like you or Tony or Ducky or Gibbs… or Jimmy even. Just have a normal life. Just be normal."

"And you think Tony is normal?" Ziva asked.

McGee chuckled softly. At least there was that.

"Tony is normal, Ziva. He's eccentric, yes. But he's normal. Tony doesn't break into aquariums, then meet anonymous women on the beach."

"I'm sure he's done that." Ziva quipped as she moved across the bed to lean against he headboard next to Tim. He laughed a little again, turning the seal over and over in his hands.

"I felt peace."

Ziva looked at him, bewildered by the change of subjects.

"Down on the beach. With that… with her. Something about her calmed me. For a moment, I felt like I wasn't alone. I never have felt, _not _alone."

"I feel alone sometimes too, McGee." McGee rolled his stinging eyes at her changing of names for him again. _Pick one or the other._

"But it's not sometimes, Zee. It's always. I've always felt… out of place. Think about when you first came to America. Now strip away your duty for your father. You're just adrift in a new world, with no one. That's how I've felt my entire life. Except on the beach. I'm sorry for rushing past you, by the way."

She nodded, amazed at how so many tears could fall, but he could keep his voice fairly smooth. Unbeknownst to her, it was because he was used to crying. Alone, his entire life.

"I talked to my dad today. Asked him what my mother was like."

Ziva shifted her body till she was cross legged, facing McGee.

"And what did he say?"

"He didn't finish telling me. But from what I gathered-" McGee stuttered, pulled the seal to his face and began quietly crying. Ziva, so stunned at this, simply stared for a moment, not sure what to do. Then she heard his voice again.

"My m-m-mother was… like the w-woman I met on the b-beach." After finishing the sentence, McGee broke down. His body contorted with each sob, his tears soaking the little seal's fur. All Ziva could do was, almost involuntarily, reach out and hold him, her heart breaking for the man she never really knew.

And they remained there for the rest of the night. As Ziva kept watch over her friend throughout the night, he whispered often into nothingness, his unconscious speech telling her that nothing would be the same. She fell asleep to his lament as he dozed.

"I… just want… to be nor… normal."

* * *

"Ben! How we feeling today?" Dr. Hawkins jovially asked the admiral as he stood from his desk, extending a hand. The tall, lanky admiral shook it firmly.

"The results?" Admiral McGee wasn't a man to beat around the bush.

The doctor nodded, pursing wrinkled lips. He lifted a folder from his desk, flipping it open.

"Well, your lipid levels are normal. And, well, your brain natriuretic peptides are quite elevated. This is most likely a response to the-"

"Cancer, I know."

Dr. Hawkins sighed.

"I'm sorry, Ben. You still have options."

"Chemo? Pill cocktail? What is worse, dying of cancer, or poisoning yourself to death?" The old man grunted in defiance.

"Those procedures have worked for thousands, and you know that, Ben. I'm trying to help, here."

Ben nodded, softly brushing short whiskers on his wrinkled face.

"Did you find anything, unusual?" The Admiral asked. Dr. Hawkins cocked his head.

"Yes, actually."

"And?"

"Your CBC levels were… off the charts. I've never seen someone with such a high red blood cell count. My research team are still scratching their heads over it."

Ben nodded. He'd heard that before. It almost resulted in him being discharged from the navy. Once they found out how long he could hold his breath underwater, he was immediately looked in to, then sent to Coronado Island in California for SEAL school. Which he passed with flying colors. The admiral remembered the look the drill sergeants gave him when he'd finally surface in the pool during 'drown proofing'.

While the other candidates would remain submerged for several minutes under duress, Benjamin McGee lasted beyond ten minutes at maximal exertion. His classmates nicknames him Guinness, saying that he'd be in the book of records because of how long he'd stay under.

The doctor continued.

"I don't know, Ben. The only problem is, no one wants to treat you because of your red blood cell levels. They're afraid something will happen, and they'll be held liable."

"I won't sue them if I'm dead."

"Now Ben, don't talk like that."

"I'm dead anyway Doc. What do you want me to say? Oh thanks for marvelling at my red blood cell count. Look and don't touch. Is this how a man with cancer is supposed to feel around the medical community?" Ben snorted rhetorically.

Dr. Hawkins reached out, placing his hand on the Admiral's shoulder.

"It's just nothing we've ever seen before. It's like, you're… advanced. In an odd way. Just a question though, have you ever tried holding your breath under water? I mean, the longest you could?"

Ben glanced warily at the doctor's sympathetic attempt to ease the tone of the conversation.

"A long time."

The old man reached out, pressuring the doctor to shake his hand.

"Let me know if anyone wants to help me."

The doctor only nodded, watching the intriguing old man leave the office.

* * *

'_And you will know, your heart is divided_

_That one cannot live as two_

_Your fate has already been decided_

_Soon you will know, the answer, to who?'_


	7. Chapter 7

**Contains 'M' rated themes.**

* * *

**Chapter 7**

Admiral McGee stepped out of the dark sedan on uneasy legs. At his age, and the life he'd lived, they didn't feel natural anymore. He tested the ground, bouncing slightly.

"Sir?"

"Erm, what? Oh, sorry James. Got lost for a moment." Ben turned as he spoke, leaning down so he could see his assistant through the open passenger door. James frowned.

"Are you alright, sir?"

"Fine. Doing fine. Goodnight James."

"Goodnight Admiral. If you need anything, do call, will you?"

"I will, James, thanks."

Ben shut the door, turning on wobbly legs, and heading to his apartment.

The old man stepped in through the doorway, allowing the door to swing slowly open, bumping slightly into the wall. He observed his domain. An empty apartment. And empty heart. Ben McGee walked across hardwood floors and into his bedroom. Once inside, he cast a glance into the walk-in closet. Rows of finely pressed clothes hung pristine. Clothes he never cared to wear anymore, really.

Quickly, he went through his drawers, and found the article of clothing he wore the most; a pair of the swimming shorts issued to him when at BUDS, Basic Underwater Demolition School, so long ago. He held them carefully, as if handed a folded flag, bringing the shorts up to his face, inspecting them.

Then, the old man turned, looking down and to his right. Behind a wicker hamper, there was a steel lock box, two feet tall, wide, and long. He had purchased it in Holy Loch, so many years ago, shipping it to his parent's residence, with a note to them, 33 years ago. He remembered penning the note vividly, so long ago.

_Mom and Dad,_

_ I want you to keep this safe secure and hidden. Please do not try to open it. I will explain it when I get home. It's nothing dangerous. It's nothing to worry about. Just keep it safe. I'm doing well. Thanks._

_- Ben_

He had never told them what was inside it.

"Telltale heart." The old man whispered, as if a steady 'thump thump_' _could be heard from it. And maybe, in the old man's head, he heard something. He made sure the safe was secure, turned the light off in the closet, changed into the swim shorts in his bedroom, then headed to the apartment pool wrapped in his Navy peacoat. Under his arm was a 25 pound weight lifting plate and a large towel.

The water felt glorious as he took a deep breath, and slowly submerged himself, the rusted steel weight in his grip. He sank to the bottom, then set the weight on his lap.

Forty-eight minutes later, he came up for air.

* * *

When Ziva woke, she felt more rested than she had in ages. Maybe it was the stress that had gotten to her over the past few days. Maybe it was cases at NCIS. Or perhaps it was the fact that…

_McGee!_

She turned over, expecting to see McGee on the bed beside her, but it was empty. Only the light of dawn streamed in. Immediately, she gasped, thinking she had been late to work, but remembered that after completing the latest case, Vance had given the team Monday off. Frantically she jumped up, calling his name. Nothing. Upon entering the living room she saw Jethro curled up against the front door. He looked at her with sad eyes.

She glanced around the room, looking for anything that would clue her into where McGee could be. The apartment was completely empty. Then she saw it. A small note on a post-it on the counter.

_Z,_

_ Left. I'm sure you'll know where I am. I'm safe. Don't worry._

_ Tim_

She sprinted down the steps of the apartment to her car.

* * *

McGee felt bad about leaving without telling Ziva, but the call within him could not be appeased. He needed to go. The feeling in his veins could not be subdued. As he drove in the early morning light, palms sweating, he had a moment of clarity. Almost coming to terms with things. He knew the feeling of benign comfort wouldn't last, but at least his thoughts were linear. For now.

He lined up everything in a row, examining each thought and reality individually. He wasn't normal, and was okay with that (at the moment). But, given that realization, what was his normal, or abnormal for that matter? And what was his reality? What was the world according to Timothy No Middle-Name McGee supposed to look like? How would this rapidly enlarging feeling of the oddity that was his life conflict with his obligations? His friendships, job, etc.

McGee could see the ocean fog still hanging thick a good number of miles away as he changed lanes on the highway.

More importantly (or, at least the most driving thought at the moment); who was the woman he had met on the beach, who was his mother, and who was he? He still had the dreams of blackness where he'd hear voices. _At least they're not telling me to do anything, like hurt myself. Then I'd be scared_.

And that thought in itself, however odd, helped McGee relax. _At least I'm not hearing voices telling me to kill myself or someone. So I'm not too far gone. I'm still sane. Just, can't explain what's going on. _

He turned the wheel, exiting the highway. The sea was only a few minutes away. He breathed a sigh of relief, and smiled, all on his own.

She knew he would be coming. She felt it. But it was no surprise to her. She knew who he was. She knew what he was. But did he? And if he ever did, would he allow it? She had seen many end their lives intentionally, claiming being two wholes was too much. Being both one and the other was impossible. But for the green eyed one, it was just too obvious. Given what was within his blood, how could he not see? After all, it was in his veins. She could smell it.

She saw him arrive from her nearly submerged position in the waves.

The sand felt glorious to McGee. As he got closer to the water, he began jogging, a nervous anxiety building within him as he began stripping clothes from his body. The action required no thought, which for McGee was a tremendous feat, considering deep thought went into almost everything he did. It just felt… natural.

Once he reached the water, he dropped to his knees, a wave nearly knocking him backwards. He closed his eyes, letting the water rush over his body. Then, he began laughing. It felt almost foreign to him. The sheer rush of ecstasy coursed through him as the sea water whirled about him. He stayed there for a while, embracing his baptism. When the time was right, he opened his eyes, and saw her walking towards him, out from the deep.

He stood, smiling at her. She smiled back. The grey blanket was under her arm, and she was completely naked. But, McGee seemed not to mind, as he was in the same state. Softly, she took his hand, leading him towards the small alcove of rocks they had been the day before.

She spread the blanket out on the sand, and knelt upon it.

"Lay with me." Her voice was like that of an angel. McGee nodded, and knelt down with her.

And for that time, McGee felt nothing within his mind. He felt no thoughts or doubts or worries. All he felt, was instinct. And to him, it was right.

* * *

Benjamin awoke early. It was a habit of his, from many years in the service. But this morning, he felt something else. His first notion upon consciousness, was guilt. He knew what he had done, many years ago. He knew that it was wrong, but at the time, his emotions had taken form in rage and frustration for something he could never again attain. Years ago, Ben made sure that his blood would not feel the same pain he had.

Rising from his bed, the old man quickly walked to the closet, pulling from the back of a drawer a set of keys. Keys that unlocked the safe he only opened once a year, on the same day. Today, he was breaking the habit.

Ben thought of the mother of his son, and the tears she cried when he had committed a unforgivable crime. Many years were spent in remorse, but to no appeasement.

The old man unlocked the safe, and lifted the lid, gasping slightly. The contents always had that affect on him. Old fingers wrapped about the object, as he pulled itt from the safe. It was odd, the old man thought, that the the object had grown in size over the years. Fitting, though. He looked at it with soft eyes, paternal emotions bringing tears to his eyes as he gazed upon the only real connection between him and his only son.


	8. Chapter 8

**First off, I'd like to apologize for the amount of editing errors in last chapter. I know how grammatical and spelling slip ups can detract from a story. I was in a hurry to get it online, and totally missed some big ones. I hope this chapter is a little cleaner. **

**Contains language.**

* * *

**Chapter 8**

'_Step daringly, towards realization_

_For you've now seen, through feel_

_Marvel at your origin, and its revelation_

_And know that this is real'_

Ziva made her way over the dunes leading to the oceanside. The agent felt an unsettling anxiety of what she may find there. She almost didn't want to find Tim. A part of her wanted her phone to ring, with Tim's cheerful voice asking why she wasn't at work, even though they had the day off. But then, the other part, was reveling in the moment. It wasn't because she enjoyed Tim's angst, or his depressed confusion. The other part of her, wanted to discover the mystery of what was going on. It wanted to find out who the woman on the beach was, and why Tim was acting the way he was.

Maybe it was the many years at NCIS that had grown inside her, tapping into the puzzle solving persona that was Special Agent Ziva David. She felt slightly guilty at the feeling, knowing full and well that the desire to solve the mystery, also inherently allowed her to accept Tim's painful situation. She wasn't a sadist by any means, except for maybe towards Tony at times. But still, her closest friend was in pain, and however much one side of her wished the situation was nonexistent, that wasn't the truth. That wasn't reality. All Ziva could do, was what she did best; act the detective and solve. Be the friend, and comfort.

As the sounds of the waves grew louder, her heart jumped. Ahead of her, in a haphazard line, was a black object. A shirt. McGee's shirt. About 15 yards beyond that was a belt. Beyond that, another article of clothing. She stooped to pick up the shirt, the smell of her friend overpowering the salt air for a moment as she gathered it up.

She made her way slowly towards the water, her nervous heartbeat drowning out the sounds of the sea. At the water's edge, just beyond the gentle touch of the waves, was another piece of clothing. She dropped the garments she held into a heap, then walked to the last piece. A gasp escaped her lips.

It was his underwear. McGee was naked. Shy, quiet, sweet McGee was naked somewhere. If it hadn't been for her worry, she would have doubled over laughing. Instead, the agent simply picked the briefs up, an eyebrow raising as she examined them, then scanned the sea. He couldn't have gone swimming, could he? Her head swiveled as she cast gazes up and down the beach. Then, her eyes caught sight of something in the water, heading out to sea.

It was a dark inhuman object, bobbing slightly, but making steady progress away from land. Ziva shaded her eyes from the rising sun, squinting to get a better look. Her eyes widened as she realized what it was.

The lone seal paddled strongly through the breakers a good 50 yards down the beach. It stopped for a moment, casting a glance back towards a section of the beach, then dove underwater. Ziva gripped the briefs in a fist, and ran down the beach towards the same large rocks she had seen McGee go with the woman the day before.

She rounded the boulders and gasped.

Lying on his side, was a very naked Timothy McGee. Ziva walked cautiously towards her friend, a small amount of relief building as she saw his body move slightly from breathing. His back was facing her as she approached. She could hear him mumbling in his sleep as she crouched next to him, her free hand reaching out slowly.

Her fingertips alighted upon his shoulder, and she held in a gasp as McGee, still sleeping, reached up and took her hand, pulling it to his mouth. Ziva felt him kissing her knuckles.

"McGee!"

"Ngah?" McGee snorted as he returned to the land of consciousness, whirling about and knocking Ziva to the sand. He sat up rigidly and stared. What Ziva saw in his nearly black eyes, was a look that nearly broke her heart. He didn't seem to recognize her. Though fully awake, he stared.

To McGee, all he saw was a form. He knew it was a woman, but all that mattered at this point, was that it was not who he had just been with. Or was it? No, no it wasn't. McGee sighed, then his eyes widened as it all came back to him. He looked down into his lap and and his sand covered body, then back at Ziva.

"Jesus Christ, Ziva!"

McGee's hands flew to his crotch to cover himself. He also crossed one leg over the other, then realized that was not a very flattering look (if he could be less flattering in the first place) and uncrossed them, settling with his hands to cover himself. Without saying a word, Ziva handed him his underwear, then watched as he shuffled, attempting to put them on.

"I will close my eyes if you want to wash off the sand before you put those on. It may be less painful."

McGee nodded, waited till she closed her eyes, then stood, blushing intensely. Ziva waited a few moments, then opened her eyes, watching the naked form of McGee walk unsteadily out to waist depth. But, the man didn't make any movement to put on the underwear. He stood, facing the vast ocean, and just stared. She saw from behind as, after a few moments, his chin drop to his chest, then his head shake. He put on the underwear, and Ziva closed her eyes again once he began heading back.

"Ok, all set."

Ziva's eyes opened once more. McGee sounded… cheery?

"McGee?" she asked as she stood, facing her now scantily clad teammate.

"Yes, Ziva?" his eyes were dark, but there was a certain look of satisfaction in them, as if he had almost forgotten about his depression the past couple days.

"So… did you come here to tan?"

"Something like that."

"Who was here with you?"

McGee shrugged.

"Was the woman here?"

"No woman was here with me."

Ziva raised an eyebrow, detecting his odd choice of words. She searched her partner's eyes, feeling distinctly that this was not Timothy McGee she was talking to. First of all, he seemed happy. Or at least, comfortable. And second, and possibly more importantly, he was not attempting to cover himself, even though he was now slightly clothed. The McGee she knew would sooner buried himself in the sand then stand in front of her confidently in his underwear. The water made the briefs cling to his body, and Ziva, in all honesty, had a hard time not looking down.

Then, she saw as the darkness in his eyes began to leave. Ziva's skin crawled as she visibly noticed the darkness depart, and the sparkling green eyes of her partner return. And McGee doubled over, vomiting in the sand in front of him.

"Tim!"

The young agent's body shook as he emptied his stomach, then turned violently to the sea.

"Who are you! What do you want? Why me? Why?" McGee screamed into the waves.

"You're ruining my life! Can't you just leave me alone? LEAVE ME ALONE!"

McGee vomited again as he gasped for breath. Ziva ran to his side and threw an arm over his bare shoulders.

"Tim, what is happening?"

The power of the moment caused the Israeli to yell as well, her concern for her friend overpowering discretion. Her friend finished his dry heaves, then turned rapidly, clinging fiercely to Ziva. The woman didn't know how to respond except simply wrap her arms around him as well, as he mumbled into her shoulder.

"Why, Ziva? Why me? Why can't I be normal?"

Ziva shook her head, feeling McGee's stubble scrape along her cheek.

"I don't know, Tim. I don't know." McGee sniffled into her shoulder.

"You saw me naked." Ziva couldn't help but smirk.

"I did."

"You won't-"

"Tell Tony? Absolutely not."

"Thanks Zee."

"You're welcome, Tim."

"Can we leave now?"

"Yes."

Tim nodded into her shoulder.

She led him along, her arm around his shoulders as they walked. All the way, Tim looked out to the sea. He nearly stumbled over the pile of his clothes, then stared at them in confusion before realizing what they were. Without a word, he picked them up, then smiled at Ziva. The woman frowned, confused by the expression. She wasn't used to McGee smiling, especially after what had just happened and his venting at the sea.

"Tim?"

"Thanks Ziva."

"For what?"

"For caring." McGee knew he was repeating himself, but felt it needed to be reiterated.

She smiled at him as he turned and began to walk towards the car on his own. She stifled a quiet chuckle at the sight.

Tall, pale, lanky, soaked McGee, walking only in his underwear in the morning sun. She could _never_ tell Tony.

* * *

Every time Admiral McGee returned the object to the safe, his heart hitched. Not only for what it was, but what it represented. It represented a possibility of loss and gain. It represented closure and something new. The old man got unsteadily to his feet, then turned off the light.

Walking determinedly, he grabbed his phone from the nightstand, dialed a number, and placed it to his ear. It went to voicemail.

_Hi, you've reached Timothy McGee, I'm away from my phone…_

"Hi… Son, it's me. I… we need to talk..."

The old man paused to cast a headlong glance towards the dark closet.

"… can you call me back as soon as you can. Not an emergency, but it's urgent."

He snapped the phone shut then checked his voicemail. The old man's heart stopped when he heard the deep voice in the recording.

"Benji! How you been you old cuss? It's Darius, if you couldn't guess. Look, I know we haven't spoken in a while, but I had the strangest thing happen. Met a woman here in Holy Loch, says she knows you. From years ago. Weird, right? Anyway, call an old friend back when you can. Take care Benji!"

The Admiral's hands shook as he dropped the phone to the floor. It bounced against the hardwood, the sound echoing throughout the apartment.

* * *

Even though he would never admit it to his team, Gibbs loved days off. As expected, he would spend ours in the basement, working on whatever new carpentry project came to mind. In USMC sweats, he stared at a large, organized pile of left over lumber from his last endeavor. His mind shifted from this option, then that option, before finally settling on something. The choice intrigued him, though, given that his mind had settled on a creation that was more art and less construction. He'd never really considered himself an artist by any means, aside from the children's toys he'd help build for Christmas.

He craned his neck, spying a large square block of nearly black wood. It was three feet tall, and two feet wide and long; made from Rosewood. Gibbs had read that when aged, the dark wood, if finished and polished correctly, would darken further. The blue eyed man nodded in satisfaction, but when he went to move, a burning within his gut stopped him. He knew the feeling well, but usually only experienced it during a controversial moment during a case.

Gibbs sipped his coffee as the churning in his gut remained.

His thoughts were brought immediately to his youngest agent.

* * *

**Hope you're enjoying this! I know I am. And thanks so much for the reviews so far!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry for not updating yesterday, was pretty busy. I hope this chapter answers a few questions...**

* * *

**Chapter 9**

Darius hung up the phone, chuckling to himself. He and Ben hadn't talked for a while, but it wasn't an awkward absence. They had their own lives to attend to, and that was understood. His wife sat beside the old man on the couch, smiling at him.

"Call Ben?"

"Yes, love. Left a message. He'll get back." The black man replied to his Scottish wife. Truth be told, returning to Holy Loch once he'd met Rebecca back in 1978 had been a difficult decision. Darius had come from a less than solid family, but when he was honorably discharged from the Navy, the globe still reeked of racial tension. Aside from certain bigots whose opinions could not be changed in Holy Loch, the ex-SEAL won the rest over with his work ethic, his charm, and the edited tales of unpublished special operations combat.

Thankfully, Rebecca's red headed family saw Darius for who he was, not what he looked like. They saw an honorable soldier, and a loving potential husband for their daughter and sister. Over the years, Darius gained a reputation working for Rebecca's father, Sam, on his fishing boat. It was a simple life; a drastic change from the days of black op missions and high value targets that he shared with Ben.

The old man leaned over, kissing his wife on the cheek.

"He'll get back to me. He always does."

The couple prepared for their early afternoon walk along the seaside.

* * *

McGee had explained that he didn't feel up to driving, and Ziva didn't push the issue, so they left together in Ziva's car. The drive back from the beach was silent, but Ziva could tell McGee's mind was ablaze with thoughts. His eyes were glued to the rear view mirror as the sea sank from view behind them. When it finally disappeared, he sighed and settled into his seat. It was just after 8:00 am on their day off. While it was not the way Ziva had intended on spending the day, it would have to do. With McGee's repeated appreciation for her 'care', she began to realize the value they all played in each other's lives.

They were often at odds. They complained about each other to friends or significant others. They vented on the phone to family, or into a typewriter. For some, they would drink until they forgot about the others. Some slept around. Some drowned out their thoughts with deafening, pulsing music. At times, even pets were subject to listening to their owner's frustration about the MCRT and the others at NCIS.

But, a single, undeniable truth remained. They loved each other more than they were willing to admit. Unfortunately, the resistance to admitting that, was what kept them all too far apart.

"Ziva, this isn't my apartment."

McGee spoke concisely, confused as they turned into a quaint strip-mall parking lot.

"No, it is not."

"Then what is it? Where are we going?"

Ziva turned to him after she pulled into a parking spot. She smiled.

"Breakfast."

"Breakfast?"

"Yes."

"But, I'm not hungry."

"I am."

"Coudn't-"

"I want to eat now."

McGee admitted defeat and watched as Ziva stepped out of the car. McGee opened his door, but didn't get out.

"Ziva! I still need to put my clothes on!"

She turned and waited.

"That's why a parked around the side of the building. Less people will see you. Now put your clothes on, and let's eat."

McGee sighed, then obeyed his partner. After shaking the sand from his clothes and donning them (with many looks around to see if anyone was watching) he walked towards the breakfast cafe, Ziva having gone in to find a table. McGee felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

2 Voicemails.

He dialed the code and listened to the first one.

"_Hi… Son, it's me. I… we need to talk..."_

"…_can you call me back as soon as you can. Not an emergency, but it's urgent." ***click***_

Tim took a deep breath. He must have called when he was on the beach. _While I was on the beach..._

Then the second message.

_McGee, it's Gibbs. Call me back. We don't have a case._ ***click***

The agent frowned at the phone as he wound his way through the booths of perfectly happy, normal patrons. Normal. Normal. _Normal. What I'm not. What I'll never be. _

He took a seat with a thump and looked across the table at Ziva. She smiled. He wished that he could honestly do the same.

* * *

**One Hour Later**

Gibbs pulled into the parking lot of McGee's apartment complex, but he didn't see McGee's car. Leaning forward, the team leader looked up towards his agent's window, then settled back against the seat. Sipping his coffee slowly, he mentally planned out how he would construct his next carpentry project while waiting for McGee to return. He knew he would.

Gibbs didn't have to wait long, but what he saw wasn't what he'd expected. Ziva's car pulled up and parked, and the two exited, but McGee just stood there, rocking slightly. _Is McGee drunk? At this time of day?_

Both agents were unaware of Gibbs' presence. Ziva walked around the car and placed her arm around McGee's shoulder and led him up the stairs.

The grey haired man watched after them, scratching his stubble. Ziva's gesture was obviously not one of romance. That left it to comfort. _What does McGee need comfort about? And from Ziva, of all people?_ Gibbs concluded that Rule 12 wouldn't need to be addressed. Yet. The older man thought of his past. Often, in their line of work, comfort leads to more. The sharing of burdens; the yoke, so to speak, could at times transform into romantic feelings. _Then people you love die. _

Gibbs got out of his car and jogged up to McGee's apartment door. He was about to knock when he heard Ziva's voice. Leaning in, he frowned. Her tone was laced with worry, concern, and… panic? _No, not Ziva._

"McGee! Please tell me what is going on? What happened on the beach?"

Silence.

"Something obviously happened. Normal people don't typically start crying in a restaurant."

Obviously a wrong choice of words. A _very _wrong choice. Gibbs could almost hear her bite her tongue.

"No, I didn't mean that McGee. I-"

"I'm not normal, okay Ziva! I'm not. What happened… nothing happened on the beach! Nothing! Do you understand!"

"But, the seal."

"There was no seal! Nothing! Nothing happened! I'm normal! See Ziva? I'm smiling! Just like a normal person! There it is! You happy now? I'm smiling. I'm god damn normal! I'm... I'm smiling."

Gibbs noted that the last word was the introduction to tears. Knocking right now would be disastrous, yet Gibbs felt guilty about eavesdropping But still. _Seal? Beach? What the hell is going on here? _He stayed where he was, sipping his coffee and listening.

"Tim, I am here for you."

_Tim? _Gibbs' eyebrows raised. _Then people you love die._

"But I'm not normal to you Ziva. I'm not. I'll never be. Nothing happened on the beach. My father… needs to finish his story. Finish the story."

The young agent's voice wavered as it trailed off. Then a sniffle. Then…

"No, Ziva. Don't touch me!" McGee barked.

"I'm not normal. Just, leave. Please. Thanks. Thank you for trying. Thank you for caring. But… I need to be alone."

"Tim!"

"No. I just… this isn't something you can figure out. You can't fix abnormality."

"Not if you don't let me try."

"Don't try, Ziva. Never try."

Silence.

Gibbs retreated from the hallway and made his way out into the parking lot. He didn't want to be caught with his ear to the door. And just as he expected, he watch Ziva step out of the apartment and descend the steps. She was wiping her cheeks.

"Hey Ziver." The woman gasped, hastily covering her emotions with a mask. Gibbs sighed.

"Gibbs."

"Everything ok?"

She turned back to the apartment, glancing at McGee's window.

"Everything is fine."

"I doubt that."

"Then ask him yourself." she almost spat the words out. Gibbs allowed her to go, then turned and briskly walked up the stairs to McGee's apartment. He was about to knock again when he heard Tim's voice.

"Hello, Dad. I need to know the rest of the story."

_Dammit! I'm never gonna get in there! _

Gibbs figured that the conversation would be one sided, with the younger McGee speaking few words, so the older agent returned to his car and waited.

* * *

"You left off with the woman at the pier."

"Oh… yes." Admiral McGee took a deep breath, and continued.

* * *

Ben followed the woman south along A815 until they reached Pier Esplanade. It was dark and completely vacant of people. The two climbed over the fence and walked down to the water's edge. Once there, the woman stopped and turned to Ben.

"Let me see your eyes."

Ben looked at her in confusion, swaying a little from the booze. _I guess that's not the worst pickup line I've heard. Figured it would be the other way around though. _He really wanted another Davidoff.

"Okay."

The woman placed both hands on the sides of his head, the grey blanket falling about her in the heap. Ben struggled to look down and his heart jumped. She was completely naked. And, she was beautiful.

She stared into his eyes for a time, then nodded, a faint smile tracing her lips.

"It is true."

"W-what is true?"

"What you are."

"What I am?"

Ben pulled her hands away from his face and took a step back.

"Okay, you gotta tell me what's going on here. What are we doing? I know I'm a little drunk, but this is all… a little strange."

She cocked her head slightly, and he continued.

"The blanket. Why aren't you wearing clothes? What normal human being walks around a cold evening in just blanket? And 'what I am'? I mean, do you pick up navymen like this all the time?"

She didn't respond as he thought she would. Instead, she placed her hand on his chest, looking longingly up into his eyes.

"Seal."

The word thumped into his heart, but he regained his logic. _How did she know?_

He sighed. Figured he might as well admit it if she knew already.

"Yeah, I'm a SEAL."

Her smile grew.

"Lay with me."

"Why?"

Ben couldn't believe his ears. Here was a beautiful, and naked woman standing in front of him, ready to 'lay' with him. What the hell was he thinking? _Go for it McGee! No, don't. Something's off. _

"Because of what you are."

"A SEAL? You like the SpecOps type?"

She looked at him in confusion.

"No. Because you are half selkie."

Ben took two large steps backwards.

"What?"

She closed the gap between them, grasping his hands, which he shook off.

"It must be. You and I. It must be."

"Why must it be? What the hell is going on? Selkie? I'm no selkie, or whatever the hell that is."

"You are half. And I am whole."

"No. I'm not. And… WHAT?"

"Don't you find it odd that you can hold your breath for so long? That you feel at home in the water? That you cannot go a long amount of time without hearing the waves? That you long for something that you cannot explain? You are half selkie, Benjamin McGee."

Ben's jaw dropped, and for two reasons. First, that she had spoken so many words. He had almost concluded the woman… _yes, she had to be a woman,_ was a mute with how little she spoke. And second, that she knew exactly what he felt, and who he was. _How does she know that?_ He had always wondered why he could hold his breath so long. Doctors said it was something about his red blood cells.

"Lay with me."

And as if his actions were dictated by some otherworldly force, McGee almost couldn't control himself. With shaking hands, he began unbuttoning his peacoat. The… selkie smiled, helping him with his clothes.

Then, Benjamin McGee woke up on the beach alone.

* * *

"Tim? Are you there son?" the old Admiral asked. He had taken his time telling the story, understanding that his son wouldn't take the news lightly. But it needed to be told. Tim needed to know. Ben heard his son's voice. It was weak and cracked as he cried.

"That… w-w-was my… my mother?"

"Yes."

"My m-mother… is a… s-selkie?" Tim whispered the last word.

"Yes."

"No."

"What, Son?"

* * *

Gibbs had had enough of waiting. He got out of his car (again) and headed up the steps to McGee's.

* * *

"No. No! No no no no no! That can't be. That's not true!"

"It is, true, Tim."

"No, I can't… just... just leave me alone!"

"Son!"

"Don't talk to me! Just… don't talk to me! I don't want to know! I don't want to talk to you."

"But, Son, please!" Admiral McGee began crying, something the old man wasn't used to. His only son was shutting him out, and it broke his heart. Even more than his longing for the sea.

"G-goodbye."

Tim hung up on his father, then promptly turned his phone off. He sobbed into his hands, his elbows on his knees as he sat rigidly on his living room couch.

"It can't be possible. There's no way in hell. It's not possible."

"What's not possible, McGee?"

"Boss?"


	10. Chapter 10

**Sorry of the long wait for me to update. Been super busy with work and a morning commute that has me going to sleep and waking up way too early. I'll do my best to get a few more in before I go all MIA again.** **Thanks if you're still reading and reviewing!**

* * *

**Chapter 10**

Through blurred vision, Ben stared at the dark screen of his phone in disbelief. Wrinkled fingers closed over the device, thumbs rubbing over the screen involuntarily. _How could this have gone so wrong? No, Ben, think about it. How could it have gone right? You've kept a secret from your only son for nearly 35 years. How did you expect him to react?_

With military stoicism, the old man shoved the pain within him. But still, it came back stronger. This wasn't something he could just bury and forget. This was his only son. And his only connection to a world he had lost.

He wiped his eyes, then dialed a familiar number.

"Admiral?"

"Hello James."

"Everything alright, Sir?"

"Is anything, really?"

"I… I suppose not?" It was more a question than an answer.

"No. It's not. I need you to purchase a plane ticket for me. One way."

"Sir?"

"I need this, James."

There was an awkward silence before the Admiral's assistant responded.

"Are you okay?"

"No, James, I'm not. Day after tomorrow. Morning-ish. Dulles to Kirkwall."

"Kirkwall?"

"Scotland, James."

"Sir, are you-."

"If you ask me if I'm alright again, I'm hanging up."

"Yes Sir. I'll take care of it. W-will I be accompanying you?"

"No. This trip I must take alone. But I will need you to pick me up at my home tomorrow morning."

"What time?"

"Early. We're going to DC."

"DC, Sir?"

"Yes. I need to see my son. I need to give something to him."

"Sounds… good Sir."

"Thanks James, goodbye."

James heard the phone go silent as his eyes registered the ended call blankly. Sighing, he took a seat at his computer, and searched for a ticket to Kirkwall.

* * *

Benjamin McGee began packing a duffel back. He didn't need to bring too much. He could buy whatever he needed when he was there. Slowly, he walked into the closet, flipping on the light. As he stood, swaying slightly, the old man coughed deep. Turning over his palm, he saw that there was dark red in his hand. Cancer.

He wiped the blood away with a towel, then reached up to the top shelves of the closet. His hands felt around for a few seconds before he grasped the glass jar, hidden behind some old shoe boxes.

He squinted at the jar, tilting it slightly, a grey, powdery substance inside, the image of it nearly ripping his heart in two.

* * *

Ziva pulled into the parking spot at her apartment complex, but instead of getting out, she simply sat in the driver's seat. It felt as if her stomach was in literal knots, tightening as she thought of the tone McGee used when he threw her out of his apartment. _Yes, that's right, he threw you out. You were trying to help him. You were trying to comfort him. And he threw you out. That, Ziva, is why you don't get close. That is why you don't open up. Because of people like Tim McGee. Right?_

Even in her mind, Ziva was unsure of what was right. She was justifiably angry with McGee, but she knew, as she knew on the beach, that that man was almost not completely the McGee she knew and…

Knuckles grew white as she gripped the steering wheel, trying to understand what was happening. She tried to think of why, all of a sudden, she was so inclined to be there for McGee. Be there for… Tim. What was it about him that made her-. No, it was simply a situation of a friend in need. A friend. _Friend_ in need. That's all this was. As a friend, and coworker, and fellow agent, one should be supportive and comforting. It was her dutiful obligation. _Because if the team were not 100%, someone will get hurt. That's it, right Ziva? Right. Exactly. No doubt._

But there was doubt.

Absentmindedly she pulled out her phone.

"Doctor Mallard." Came Ducky's cheerful voice. In the background, Ziva could here children playing and people calling to each other. Dogs barked.

"Ducky, it is Ziva."

"Well, hello my dear! What can I do for you on this grand and rare occasion of a day off?"

The old man was in a cheerful mood, and his tone helped Ziva smile.

"I just wanted… to…"

"To talk, my dear? I'm always readily available."

Ziva swallowed a lump in her throat. Gibbs' talent of reading minds must have rubbed off on the old M.E.

"Thank you, Ducky. In person?"

"Of course! I am at the dog park actually near yours and Timothy's residences. Care to join me? I'd very much enjoy your company."

Ziva smiled.

"I would love that."

"Wonderful! I will see you soon!"

Ducky hung up his phone, glancing about at the children and dogs playing in the park.

"Something is amiss, I'm afraid." The old man whispered to himself.

* * *

"B-boss. What are y-you doing here?"

McGee stuttered out the question, rising to his feet. Gibbs stood in the doorway, sipping his coffee. The old man remained silent, intense eyes examining the red and misty younger ones.

"Everything okay?"

Tim shifted uncomfortably.

"Yeah, Boss."

"Doubt that."

"It's fine."

"Don't lie, McGee."

"Ok, it _will_ be fine."

"Still doing it."

McGee groaned, stifling the sob that loomed up within him. For some reason, all he could think of was wanting Ziva to come back. Something about her was comforting. Maybe it was that she had been with him in the beginning, and had experienced the most of his unique situation. Maybe it was because she cared. McGee stood and began angrily folding clothes that lay on the back of his couch. Gibbs just watched.

"Watcha doin' McGee?"

"Folding clothes." The younger agent spoke quietly.

"Why?"

Tim held a shirt up before him, examining it carefully, before throwing it vicously to the ground. He turned to Gibbs, glaring at him and pointing to the crumpled shirt on the floor.

"Because it's what normal people do, Boss! It's what normal people do!"

He stooped to pick up the shirt and began to refold it, muttering under his breath.

"...what normal people do…"

Gibbs took a sip, swishing the coffee from one cheek to the other.

"And you're not normal, McGee?"

The young man stopped folding, weighing what he did and did not want Gibbs to know.

"No. I'm not."

"You seem normal to me."

Gibbs spoke as if his original question had been a rhetorical one.

"Boss, can you… please leave."

Gibbs cocked his head.

"Now, Boss. Please."

McGee turned to him, pleading in his eyes. Apart from that, Gibbs saw something else in the young man's pupils. Something painful. Something that tormented him. As much as Gibbs wanted to head slap McGee and yank the answers out of him, he knew that wasn't the best course of action. _That would work with Tony. Either way, I'm not leaving._

"No, Tim."

"No?" McGee gasped incredulously.

"Nope."

The young agent flinched, as if the denial of his request had been a punch to the gut.

He then turned and headed into the kitchen to tidy up. He turned the water in the sink on full blast. _Maybe the steam from the hot water will make it look less like I'm crying._

Gibbs followed him and just watched.

"Why are you here Boss?" Tim finally spoke as he polished a spoon.

"Something's up."

"No. Everything is fine."

Gibbs had had enough.

"Dammit McGee! What the hell is going on? Come over here."

The older man all but strong armed Tim towards the couch, the spoon clattering to the kitchen floor. McGee cast a sorrowful glance over his shoulder at it. _Normal people don't let spoons lie on the floor like that. _

"Sit." McGee was pushed into the couch. Gibbs had expected his agent to protest, but he didn't. Tim simply sat and stared at him. His red eyes looked terrible with the dark circles under them.

"Now. What is going on?"

"Nothing."

"We'll try again. What is going on?"

"Nothing, Boss." McGee's tone rose a few octaves.

"I'm going to keep asking. What is going on?"

McGee just sighed and rubbed his eyes.

_Third time's a charm._

"I don't know Boss. It's just…" Tim stopped himself as Gibbs settled on the couch next to the agent.

"...do you ever feel… you know what, nevermind. It's fine. Everything is fine."

"Will you cut that out!"

Gibbs tone took hold of Tim's heart. His expression was that of a child lost in a grocery store.

"Ok. Fine. Boss... do you ever feel... not normal?"

Gibbs' face remained unchanged. The older man's answer startled McGee.

"Yes, I do."

"You do?"

"Yep."

McGee laughed, a sob almost finding its way out of his throat as the older mn sipped his coffee.

"You? Not normal? Come on, Boss. Not like this. You're… you're perfect."

McGee pointed to his boss, his tone one of sad disbelief.

"You're successful, you are social… enough. You don't have weird things happen to you. You aren't… debilitated by random occurrences. You don't… break into aquariums."

Gibbs' eyebrows shot up.

"That was you?" McGee took a deep breath, speaking quietly as he let it out.

"Yeah. That was me."

"Well, you're wrong."

"Wrong? About what?"

"I'm not normal, McGee."

"Oh? Then tell me!" McGee rose to his feet as his voice reached the threshold of shouting.

"Tell me Boss, how you're not normal! Compared to me? The antisocial computer nerd who sits in his apartment, alone, on weekends and writes! Who can't seem to hold a solid relationship! And who breaks into goddam aquariums! Tell me- no, enlighten me as to how you are not normal!" _Who hears poetry of another identity in his dreams. Who sleeps with random women by the sea. Who has a father who claims that he's part selkie. Which means I'm… no, no it's not true. _

McGee was panting as he all but glared at Gibbs. The older man was doing his damnedest to no head slap McGee for the tone of voice and the glare he just used towards him, but given the circumstances, he knew that would not be the best course of action. McGee rarely ever used an angry or elevated tone with anyone but Tony. Whatever this was, it was serious. Gibbs held out his hand, four fingers outstretched.

"Four marriages McGee. Three didn't work because I couldn't hold a solid relationship. Like you." Gibbs wrapped his hand back around the coffee cup as he continued.

"I sit in my house, alone, on weekends and build boats. But, you got me on the aquarium. I broke into Fornell's house once, though."

McGee just stared at his boss.

"But, Gibbs, I'm not normal. I'm just... You broke into Fornell's house?"

Gibbs chuckled.

"Yeah. He bet that I couldn't. Got free coffee for a week."

McGee shook his head, letting out an almost inaudible chuckle. The older man watched his subordinate carefully. There was a distance in his eyes, like he was seeing things that no one else was. He stared wistfully and painfully before him, yet beholding nothing. The silence was oppressive. As seconds ticked by, the tense silence continuing, Gibbs noticed the young man swaying slightly, as if unsteady on his feet. He took a sip of his coffee.

McGee's vision faded. He remembered being in his apartment, talking to Gibbs, but now, all he saw was a grey haze, like ocean fog. Before him, he saw the figure of someone coming towards him. It was a female figure, but it felt wrong. All of it felt wrong. _He _felt wrong.

Reaching one arm out slowly, McGee could feel a pulsing in his heart, as a sound only he could hear resonated, rhythmically crashing and subsiding. The waves. The sea. My home. His fingers stretched eastward, towards his mother and the salt water. His lips moved slightly, quivering as he spoke silently, tears breaking free uninhibited from their eyelid prisons.

Gibbs had stood when McGee reached out, but kept his distance. Then, with a sudden drop, McGee plummeted from his feet, collapsing in a heap on the hardwood floor. Gibbs was immediately beside him, cradling his head in his arms.

"McGee! McGee! What's wrong?" The older man demanded, watching in horror as McGee's eyes rolled backwards.

"God Dammit McGee!"

"...si...l...k…"

Gibbs leaned his ear beside McGee's mouth.

"What Tim?"

"B...os..s…"

"Yeah McGee. What's wrong?"

With eyes still rolled backwards and saliva trailing from the corner of his mouth, McGee finally spoke words his boss could understand.

"...It was… just a… touch of silk… just a touch of silk…"

Then McGee went limp in Gibbs' arms.

* * *

"Well, hello Ziva my dear! How are you!" Ducky rose from the bench in the dog park when he saw Ziva approach. He could tell from her stiff demeanor that something was up, but decided that formalities would not be foregone. The M.E. embraced her tightly, then took a seat beside her on the bench. For some time they just sat and watched the children and dogs running about, playing in the afternoon sun. Ziva shifted uncomfortably.

"May I ask, my dear, what is the matter?"

"Why do you think something's the matter, Ducky?"

"Oh come now Ziva, you must know that a man of my… stature is sharp enough to detect when things are not as they should be."

Ziva sighed.

"It's McGee, Ducky."

Ducky swiveled on the bench to face Ziva.

"Ah, our beloved friend of still water."

Ziva looked at him perplexed.

"Still water?"

"Yes. Still water. Water that is calm on the surface, but strong, powerful and even unpredictable underneath. Where the eye cannot perceive."

Ziva took a deep breath, settling her elbows on her knees.

"Is that not the truth."

"What is wrong, dear? What is going on between you and Timothy?"

Ziva's eyebrows jumped and she avoided Ducky's gaze. After all, the question was worded peculiarly.

"He is… troubled, Ducky. He has not been himself lately. I witnessed him… cry. He does not think he is normal. He says that he is not like other people."

If Ducky were surprised at this, he didn't show it.

"And he shared this with you?"

Ziva only nodded.

"Well, you should be honored. Despite this moment of weakness for Timothy, you should know that, our dearest young agent is very private. It is that fact that he shared this with you may mean something. He trusts you, Ziva my dear."

She remained silent.

"I assume you want to help him. But, you do not know how. You are frustrated because you don't know how to help."

The Israeli let out a deep breath as Ducky continued.

"As I have experienced in my time, sometimes those we care about are subject to things only they can comprehend. We must sometimes, unfortunately, mind you, wait beside them. Provide support. Provide a safe place for them to rest."

"A safe place. What is, a safe place, Ducky?"

"Well, to answer that more appropriately, one must ask, what must one be safe _from._"

Ziva mulled the question over as she pushed an overly friendly dog away from the bench.

"One's self."

"One's self, my dear?"

"Yes."

"You feel our beloved Timothy must be kept safe... from himself?"

Ziva only nodded.

"Oh... dear me." Ducky whispered, a frown creasing his features.

"That is something entirely different in itself."

* * *

'_Your life was taken from you_

_By misunderstanding and love_

_Peace you will find to be true_

_When there is naught but water above'_

* * *

Almost 3,500 miles away, an old woman walked along a rocky shore. Wrapped in a dark grey cloak, the old woman made her way towards the lighthouse. Before reaching it though, she paused. At the highest point on the little island, she turned, facing southwest. Quietly, she sang, the wrinkles on her face a testament to her years.

She thought of the man, so long ago, that had taken her son from her. She remembered the night vividly, the young soldier, unable to comprehend the reality of his situation, grasping the infant and his skin away from her arms. She could still see him walking off into the cold night, towards his warship.

She didn't truly blame him, though. While it had broken her heart, she understood that mixing affairs with those of his kind would lead to such ends. The only truth that she knew now, was that all things would come full circle. It would be amended, and he would return. She knew this, for she saw it in his eyes, more than thirty years ago.

He would return. And he will have righted his wrong. It was the nature of things. The ebb and flow, so to speak. The tide comes in, the tide goes out. It was how things worked. The nature of an honest man was predictable. And, that's why she had chosen him, years ago. She saw into his soul, that he was honest. She saw that he was true of character. More importantly, she saw that he was not fully human.

Honesty, integrity, purity, and his selkie blood were what drew her to him. For she knew, that their child would be more selkie than he.

The old woman sat upon the rocks, gazing across the sea towards the southeast as seals played in the waves.


	11. Chapter 11

**Thank you for the reviews! Your questions and encouragement definitely got my muse going.**

* * *

**Chapter 11**

The sudden thumping on Tim's door almost woke him, but with a groan and only a flicker of his eyelids, the young agent remained unconscious. Gibbs got up from his chair hurriedly and opened the door.

"Jethro, is everything alright? Where is Timothy?" Ducky nearly pushed Gibbs aside as he rushed into the apartment.

I moved him onto the couch, Duck. He's been mumbling. Been breathing, but won't wake up."

Ducky got on one knee as he removed from his bag his stethoscope, placing the buds in his ears. After taking a pulse, listening to lung sounds, and checking blood pressure, the old man stood, wiping his brow.

"I can't say Jethro. Something is certainly amiss. His heartrate is high, and he's breathing quite rapidly. Did Timothy hit his head when he fell?"

Gibbs took a sip of coffee and shook his head, watching as Ducky pinched at McGee's shirt, holding his fingers up to his face. Sand.

"We were at the beach this morning."

Gibbs turned, finally noticing Ziva standing in the corner of the living room, hands holding each other as she spoke.

"Ziver."

"Gibbs."

Ducky felt Tim's forehead for any sign of fever, standing slowly.

"This may merit a hospital visit, Jethro. Precautionary, of course."

Gibbs nodded, then glared at his pocket as his phone began ringing. His eyebrows raised at the voice on the other end, then snapped the phone shut.

"Ziva, get your gear and call Tony. Dead sailor."

Ziva cocked her head.

"But we have the day off, do we not?"

"Not anymore."

Ziva walked over to McGee and crouched next to him. As she leaned forward, her mouth beside his ear, Ducky and Gibbs exchanged a glance. Then, McGee's eyelids fluttered open.

"...nnng Ziva? What happened?" McGee spoke quietly, then shifted his position upon seeing Ziva so close to him. She smiled worriedly, but Gibbs answered his question.

"You passed out, McGee. You good to work a case?"

Tim nodded slowly, noticing the glare Ducky gave Gibbs.

"Jethro, with Timothy's sudden syncopal episode, I must protest. He is in no condition to attend to a crime scene."

"I'm fine Ducky, really. I want to go."

Three pairs of eyes shot to McGee.

"Are you sure, lad?"

"Very sure." Tim replied as he sat up, rubbing his eyes.

A case. Yes, it was on a Sunday, and yes it was their day off, but McGee had been praying for it. Something to distract him from everything. Hell, he'd let Tony tease him the whole time. A case. It meant he could do his job. It meant that he could do something aside from worry or think about the sea. It meant he could feel normal. Normal people went to work. Normal people did their work. McGee knew it would be a temporary remedy, but regardless, he needed it.

Ducky sighed and shook his head.

"If you are sure. Jethro, where are we headed?"

"Naval Base. Annapolis. Bring your sea legs, McGee."

The young agent gulped, hoping the body was on a large ship that didn't rock too much. Carefully, he rose from the couch.

"Gotta change, give me 10 minutes."

Gibbs nodded, then when McGee had disappeared into his bedroom, turned to Ziva and Ducky.

"You two know what's going on with him?"

The two exchanged a glance, before Ducky began.

"I am not confidently certain, Jethro."

His answer was concise, and Ziva smiled at him, appreciating the upheld confidentiality of their conversation. After, all, knowing their boss, he probably knew already. Gibbs looked from one to the other, his gut and the obviousness of the unspoken words telling him that there was more to this. More, that he would find out.

The silence in the room was interrupted by a light tap on the front door. Gibbs turned and opened it, coming face to face with Admiral Benjamin McGee. Behind him was a clean cut young man who was struggling to hold a large metal safe.

"Oh, is this Timothy McGee's apartment?"

Gibbs nodded, sizing up the old man who had a striking similarity to his youngest agent.

"Is he home? Or did I interrupt something?"

"No, you didn't. Who are you?"

Ben extended a hand, which Gibbs took firmly.

"Admiral Benjamin McGee. Tim's father. May we come in?"

"I'm James." Ben's assistent gasped, eager to get the safe he held to its destination and be free of the burden.

Gibbs stood aside, letting Ben and James into the apartment. Ziva and Ducky introduced themselves as James placed the safe in the corner of living room.

"No, James not there. It must be hidden." Ben glanced around cautiously at those he'd just met, who were giving him odd stares.

"It's important." Ben concluded as James hefted the safe up again with a grunt, glanced around, then settle with placing it underneath Tim's typewriting desk.

"That's good, James."

"Dad?"

McGee stood pale faced in his bedroom doorway, his jaw open.

"Hi son."

"What are you doing here?"

"Can I not come to see my son?"

Gibbs, Ziva, Ducky, and even James looked from one McGee to the other as the awkward tension in the room rose.

"You felt that wasn't necessary in the past 10 years. Why now?"

The bitterness in Tim's voice made even Gibbs cringe.

"Son, I-"

"Stop calling me that."

"Stop calling you my son?"

"Yes. Don't call me that."

"S-… Tim, I didn't come here to argue."

"Then why are you here?"

"To give you something. It's in the safe under your, uh, typewriter desk. You never told me you liked to write."

"You never bothered to ask."

"Tim I-"

"Gentlemen. Timothy, Benjamin, I hate to interrupt."

Ducky spoke sternly, a tinge of shock in his voice at the bitterness in the relationship between father and son. A relationship he had been told by Tim himself, was sound.

"There is a poor, dead sailor that we must attend to. So, if you both do not mind, we, Timothy as well, must take our leave."

Ben still stared painfully at his son, and James lowered his eyebrows, obviously relieved by the interruption to the difficult interaction. Ben nodded, and Gibbs took initiative, and led Ben and James out of the apartment and down the stairs.

Once they reached Ben's car, the old man turned to Gibbs, his outstretched hand clutching something.

"It's the key. To the safe. Give it to him, please. Everything is telling me not to give it to you, and only Tim personally, but I guess after that, this will have to do."

Gibbs noted the sheer amount of sadness in the old man's voice. Gibbs took the key just before Ben brought his hand rapidly up to his mouth and succumbed to a near violent fit of coughing. When Ben removed his hand from his mouth, Gibbs saw a large amount of blood in his palm.

"Cancer."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You sleep in the bed you make."

"How long?"

"Do I have to live, or have I had it?"

Gibbs paused, meaning the latter question.

"Whichever you want to answer."

"Had it for 5 years. And 6 months ago."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, outlived the doc's projected timeframe. SEALs tend to do that. Better get to that crime scene."

Abruptly, Ben shook Gibbs' hand with his left, and entered the vehicle. It rumbled off as the team arrived, Tim catching his father's eyes in the mirror.

* * *

"Ooooh Probie! Look at that! That's not that big a ship at all! If you puke on me, I swear to god I'm throwing you overboard."

Tony jovially elbowed McGee as they walked along the harbor. A Metro police officer led the team towards a medium sized naval cruiser. They could see the captain waiting for them at the top of the gangplank.

Tim took a deep breath, then made his unsteady way up the little bridge to the deck of the ship. The captain nodded grimly to them as they approached.

"NCIS?"

"Yeah Captain. Got a body for us?"

"Yup. And hopefully you'll have answers. It's one goddamn thing after another. The Feds put your ship on the terrorist target list then everything goes to shit. One thing after another. Never murder though."

Gibbs eyebrow quirked.

"Terrorist target list? For how long?"

"Bout six months now. Body's down here."

* * *

The team made their way along the deck, avoiding the large gaping hole in the center of it. A crane was lowering a large crate into its depths.

"Careful Probie. Knowing you and your clumsiness, you'll end up falling down there."

Tony grasped McGee's shoulders, mock pushing him into the cargo hold, but holding him securely.

"Thanks Tony, I'll try to avoid it. H-how was your weekend?" _Normal people ask their coworkers how their weekends were._

"Well, Probester, spent it with the three loves of my life."

"Which are?" Ziva inquired, finally able to tear her worried gaze away from McGee.

"Random girl, pizza and beer, and an A-Team marathon."

"That was four things, Tony."

"Oh shut it, McLiteral."

Ziva sighed as she saw McGee chuckle a little, but turn his head, gazing out into the sea. _She's out there somewhere._

* * *

As they approached the entrance stairway to the hull of the ship, a sailor hurried past them. Gibbs eyes quickly swept him as they passed each other. The sailor had a small, new bruise on his cheek, and was securely gripping a cell phone in both palms, as if it held more value than it obviously had. Gibbs stopped and turned, watching the sailor glance over his shoulder. Tony read his Boss' mind and caught the attention of the Metro police officers at the top of the gangplank, and pointed to the sailor. The officers nodded to him, then moved to meet the sailor.

The team, following the captain, descended into the belly of the ship, stepping over the kneenockers. The captain led them deep into the ship, before pointing into the engine room. He nodded to the two guards, who glared suspiciously at the NCIS agents.

* * *

In the center of the cacophonous room, was the body. It lay sprawled on its back, a puddle of drying blood surrounding it.

"Ah my dear fellow, very pleased to meet you."

Ducky stooped down with Palmer as they began examining the body. The sailor's head had a deep indention in the forehead, a steel pipe a few meters off.

"Well, cause of death may be obvious Mr. Palmer, but still, we must not rule out anything."

"Yes, Doctor."

"Jethro, would you... Jethro?"

Ducky looked up from his squatted position as Gibbs glanced hastily around.

"Something's wrong Duck."

Gibbs gut was churning, and it was screaming at him to get the team out. Quickly he pushed past Tony and began pulling tarps off equipment stacked against the walls.

"Jethro, what is the matter."

"Get out! Now!" Gibbs yelled, turning to the team as he held one tarp up. The team let out a collective gasp.

Beneath the tarp in Gibbs' hand were two 55 gallon drums. secured to them, was a bomb. Wires wound down and into the tops of the barrels, and a cell phone was nestled in the center of brick sized packages that resembled plastic explosives.

"Go! Now!"

Ducky and Palmer had already exited the engine room, followed by Tony and Ziva.

"Don't worry! It's like the movies! We're gonna get off then walk calmly and all suave with the explosion in the background!" Tony called as he jumped over a knee knocker.

"This is not a movie, Tony!"

Gibbs pushed McGee out of the engine room, sending him sprawling into the hallway. Gibbs jumped over him, then stopped to help his agent up. They stood together in the doorway when they heard the loud beep of the bomb.

Involuntarily, McGee pushed Gibbs backwards, propelling both agents onto either side of the doorway as the entire ship shuddered from the explosion.

Gibbs fell backwards over a knee knocker, but pushed himself up just in time to see the wall of the engine room beside McGee rip outward and into the hall.

"Tim!"

Gibbs watched as the concussion of the blast sent pieces of steel hurtling, a large section of the steel wall pinning McGee to the floor.


	12. Chapter 12

**I have to thank you all for the reviews, and for the questions. More than one of you have actually helped me get over a minor case of writer's block, and reignite my muse. So Thanks!**

* * *

**Chapter 12**

"Tim!"

Gibbs pushed himself up as sea water flooded into the hallway from the engine compartment, the boat listing violently. Over the roar of the water, the rooms along the hall echoed with the sounds of equipment and machinery toppling over and slamming to the floor as the ship tilted. Gibbs braced himself and leaned backwards as the hallway before him began decline, only hoping that nothing came crashing down the hall behind him.

"Boss! Where's McGee?"

Tony called from the stairway leading to the deck. Gibbs didn't answer, but began sloshing through the now ankle high rising water as Tony and Ziva retraced their steps back into the hull of the ship. As they did, they could see the ocean surging into the ship from the engine room doorway and the hole in the wall. The ship itself continued to tilt drastically, causing the agents to walk carefully, as if downhill, with one foot on the floor and the other on the wall.

"Shit, Probie!"

The group reached McGee, who was doing his best to sit up and keep his head above the swirling water. The section of steel covered him from his shins to stomach; and wouldn't move as Tim, pinned between the floor and the wall, heaved against it. Gibbs immediately reached into the water and grasped the piece of metal and pulled. It didn't move.

"Tony! Ziva! Help me lift it!"

The trapped agent coughed out sea water as he tried his best to help his teammates lift the metal from his body. From what he could tell, he didn't feel anything broken about his body, thankfully. He was just stuck, but the enormous pressure of the weight nearly made his eye bulge.

"Okay, one, two, lift!" Gibbs commanded.

They all attempted to move the steel, grunting as their weary muscles contracted. It rose slightly, but the sheer weight of it came back down to a rest on McGee's body, causing him to groan.

"Come on, Tim. This isn't how it's gonna be. Gibbs would hate to have to train another probie! Or hell, use those creeps from Cyber."

Tony attempted to lighten the mood as Gibbs nodded agreement. Only Ziva saw the pained and betrayed look in McGee's eyes as they locked on Tony's. The older agent didn't notice.

In Tim's panic stricken mind, with nearly a half ton of steel resting on his body, he saw before him the answer to a question he had asked himself time and time again. _Do they really care about me?_ McGee could only pick out singular phrases from his two male teammates.

"_You don't have my permission to die."_ Implying that he was an object, a possession.

"_Not gonna train another agent."_

_I'm sorry Gibbs, how inconsiderate of me to put you in that position, _McGee thought.

"_This would happen to you, McLucky."_

"_I thought you've been working out, McLiar. Apparently not. Now help us lift this!"_

Sure, here they were trying to save him, and of course Tony had an unorthodox sense of humor, but that was more than Tim was willing to accept at this point. Carefully, the young agent reached underwater, fishing around with his hand beside his torso until he found what he sought.

His fingers wrapped securely around his pistol.

* * *

"But Mr. Palmer, Timothy is down there!"

Ducky protested vehemently as Jimmy pushed him from behind up and out of the stairwell and onto the severely tilted deck. Sailors wobbled to and fro wearing life vests, leaning their bodies towards the deck as they walked. The captain, perched on the high railing, was calling out orders to his men. The medical examiner and his assistant heard the calling sirens of rescue crews.

"Dr. Mallard, we need to get off the ship!"

The old man's expression became aghast upon hearing the tone in his assistant's voice. The typically mild mannered and stuttering assistant sought deep within himself for strength; and found it. With an instinctual reflex, Jimmy grabbed two life vests that were sliding down the deck with one hand, his other around the waist of his boss to steady him.

"Yes, Mr. Palmer but Timothy!"

"The team is taking care of Tim. If we don't get off now we'll go down with the ship!"

The light of flames glinted from Ducky's glasses. Oil from the engine room had leaked out onto the waves and ignited, surrounding the starboard side of the ship; the side that was dipped into the water. As the ship continued its daring attempt at a complete inversion, Ducky and Jimmy watched in horror as a sailor lost his hold on a railing and slid down the deck, screaming as he plunged into the flames and the water.

With hidden strength, Jimmy tightened his grip on Ducky and pushed them forward and up the deck, pinning him against the port railing.

"I won't let you fall Dr. Mallard! I won't let you fall!"

Over Jimmy's shoulder, the old ME could see more oil pouring into the sea, the flames growing larger. Ducky reached behind him, hooking his elbows on the railing as Jimmy all but hugged him, his arms wrapped around the railing. The ship continued to tilt.

"We'll need to climb over the railing soon, Doctor! Don't worry, I'll help you."

Ducky nodded, touched by Jimmy's protectiveness, yet horrified at the situation that caused it.

* * *

McGee wasn't sure how he felt. He was panicking; and he was enraged. He watched with distaste as his team… no, just _the_ team, tried to free him from the steel coffin. Tony and Gibbs were still feeding him rhetoric; minute statements that implied care, but were laced with criticism, patronization, and disappointment.

Tim raised the pistol and aimed it at the team, but primarily Tony and Gibbs. _Ziva will understand_. He watched as their expressions changed from concern (how genuine, Tim wasn't sure) to shock.

"McGee, what are you-"

Tim spat out water as the level reached his ears.

"Get out! Leave Boss!"

"McGee! What the hell-"

"Dammit Boss, didn't you hear me? Get the hell out of here!"

The team heard the sound of the safety of the pistol being switched off.

"Probie?"

"No *cough* Tony. All of you. Get out of here. If this is how I go, then fine. But, my last moments aren't going to hear how inadequate I am, or how inconvenient training someone else will be to you, or how you own me. I've had enough!"

The tone in his voice bit through all three of them, but the two men more so. All three flinched as McGee fired a round off above their heads, the sound overwhelming the roar of the sea water as it continued to rush into the hall. The team paused and just stared.

"That was a warning shot! If you want to die here with me, that's fine. Get away from me!"

Nothing.

**Boom!**

"I said get away from me!" McGee screamed, a look of terror and betrayal in his eyes.

Staring down the barrel of the gun Gibbs had given the agent years ago, the team leader finally conceded.

"Ok, Tim."

"Don't call me Tim! You never felt it necessary to use my first name until just recently. Just stop. Just go!"

Gibbs nodded, not quite understanding what was happening. He wanted to think that McGee was making a heroic decision; threaten them so that they would leave, thus saving them from drowning with him. But, there was obviously more to it. The sheer anger in McGee's eyes chilled Gibbs' blood, and he recalled him using the same tone when telling his father not to call him 'Son', earlier that morning.

Slowly, he turned, motioning for his remaining two agents to follow.

"No! Boss-" Tony began to protest.

**Boom!**

McGee fired again, right over Tony's head, who ducked and held up his hands in defeat. Finally, he too turned. Only Ziva cast a sad glance over her shoulder as the water rose and they escaped.

Tim watched them go as tears fell from his eyes. _Well, it's fitting. If I were born in the sea, at least I will die in it. _

Although the thought made sense to him, he chuckled thinking of the irony of how the agent who got seasick would die in it. The pistol tumbled from his fingertips as the sea water rose past his eyes, blurring his vision. _God, it's cold._

With a last surge of energy, McGee leaned upwards, took the deepest breath he could muster, then let the water envelope him.

* * *

Tony, Ziva and Gibbs pulled themselves out of the stairwell in silence. The ship was now nearly completely on its side, causing the agents to literally lay on the wall to keep from sliding into the inferno on the waves. A fleet of fire department boats had already arrived and were sending powerful streams of foam towards the flames, but they kept burning. Just beyond the fire boats, Ziva saw a cluster of dark splotches in the waves. Squinting to get a better look, she nearly gasped upon realization of what they were.

A large group of seals had gathered; all of which stared towards the flames and the hole in the side of the naval cruiser; the engine room. Then, one by one, they disappeared into the water. Only one remained, staring. _Just like at the aquarium._

"David! You hear me?"

Ziva turned to Gibbs, her face blank.

"I said we're going to make our way along the wall, drop into the water from the aft. Palmer has Ducky safely secured. You with me?"

Ziva nodded, her mind on the seals and the agent they left behind. No, not just _the agent_, but her friend. Her best friend.

Left to die in the cold halls of the naval cruiser.

Gritting her teeth, Ziva followed Tony and Gibbs as they walked along the wall, the salt water hiding the tears that fell.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

'_**I'm starting to believe the ocean's much like you'**_

McGee genuinely felt bad for threatening the team like that. He never intended for something of that severity to happen, but was he expected to act like a gentleman when he was pinned underwater in a naval cruiser? He liked his team, he really did, but sometimes… they were damn near unbearable.

Emerald eyes glanced around as tiny bubbles lingered upwards and past his body. Once the water had stopped filling the hallway, it became oddly quiet. Peaceful, almost. Aside from the notion of impending drowning, and not being able to do a thing about it, McGee was serene. It felt like… _It feels like I'm going home. _Even with the weight on his body, McGee almost felt like sleeping. His lips curled into a smile as he felt the still water about his body. Salt water. The Sea. _I'm home. _He felt more peace than he had any other times in his life; as if the oddness and abnormality of his existence was being stripped away. But, before he felt completely secure, he realized again that he was drowning. And that was a problem.

He watched as more bubbles danced their way past pieces of equipment suspended in the water along the hallway.

_Ok… so that means… wait, which way is up again? Does it matter? Death, right side up or upside down is all the same. I hear that drowning is the most peaceful way to die. But, it sure is taking a while. How long have I been holding my breath? Has to be ten minutes now. _

Once the ship's hull embedded itself in the harbor's floor and stopped sinking, McGee couldn't help but think of the woman on the beach. In this moment, nothing really mattered to him. He was no longer worried about being normal, or not. In death, he would be just that, dead. Then a thought hit him like a train.

_Normal people die._

Pale, nearly cyanotic lips tightened into a grimace, releasing a few more bubbles, as McGee began to ponder the thought that had come to him.

_Normal people die. I've… never felt normal. But, if I die, I will be normal. Because everyone dies. Normal people die. Normal people die…_

* * *

**15 Minutes Later**

"Ducky! Palmer! You good?"

Gibbs called over to the two men as he and his agents hoisted themselves onto the docks. The soaking M.E. and his assistant, who were seated on a crate barely turned their heads to acknowledge Gibbs.

It had taken Gibbs, Ziva, and Tony a while to escape the sinking vessel, as the oil fire had spread to surround most of the hull. Only until they found a spot on the water that wasn't burning, did they plunge in and swim for the docks.

"Where's Timothy?"

"He's… he's still in there, Duck." Gibbs' voice uncharacteristically wavered.

Ducky hoisted himself up, an uncanny fire in his eyes.

"You left him?"

His glare passed from Gibbs, to Tony, then finally to Ziva. Only the team leader was able to hold his gaze.

"He threatened to shoot us, Duck. Even fired off a couple shots."

"But… Where are the SCUBA teams? Where is search and rescue? Where are the damn rescuers!"

Even Jimmy was taken back by Ducky's outburst, who had begun pacing, mumbling, and throwing his arms in the direction of the ship on its side.

"Hey! Hey, you! Come here!" Gibbs commanded to one of the firefighters, who gave him an incredulous stare.

"Where are the rescue teams? We got a man in there!"

The firefighter knew what needed to be said, and unfortunately, it was not the answer the team wanted.

"Too dangerous, sir. The ship is still moving. It stopped sinking, but it's still rolling. We send a guy down there, he could get hurt."

Gibbs strode forward, grasping the firefighter by his collar and hauled him close. They stood nose to nose as Ziva and Tony looked from their team leader, to Ducky, to the tilted ship. With a snort, Gibbs pushed the firefighter away, who nearly fell flat.

"DiNozzo! We're going to- where the hell is DiNozzo?"

"Ummm, over there Gibbs." Jimmy interjected.

The group's collective gaze followed a sprinting Anthony DiNozzo, who reached one of the Urban Search and Rescue squad vehicles. He slowed to a walk, approaching to men who were donning wetsuits. He was doing exactly what Gibbs had been thinking.

"Hey guys, this the scuba gear you use?" Tony flashed a grin as he picked up a tank, tubing, and a breathing mask. One of the men responded cheerfully.

"Yep. That's our extra set."

"Perfect."

"Wait, wha- Hey! Come back here!"

Tony clutched the equipment to his breast as he sprinted away from the USAR truck. Quickly, he connected the tubing to the tank and then the mask, flinging the tank over his shoulders as he ran. The senior field agent heard the commotion that he caused behind him, but didn't care. It had been almost 20 minutes since they had left McGee, and maybe, just maybe he could get to him in time. _No, DiNozzo, that's stupid, no one can hold their breath for that long. Shut up, brain! Yes they can._

As he approached the end of the dock, he took two quick test breaths to assure a clean pathway for the air, then jumped. Thankfully, the flames hadn't reached the dock, and he sank into the cold water of the Atlantic. He popped up for a moment, donned the mask, then dove again, making his way to the hole in the hull leading to the engine room.

The explosion and the ship's impact with the bottom had kicked up sand making it difficult to see, but steadily, Tony made his way along the ship. The agent reached the submerged starboard railing, and began pulling himself along it, like a horizontal ladder, the poorly secured tank bouncing against the small of his back.

Turning his head slightly, Tony could see the glow of the flames on the surface of the water; the mass undulating with the waves like an ignited kaleidoscope. Once he reached the midsection of the ship, he pulled himself over the railing and down the hull of the ship, but led out an enormous cloud of bubbles with a gasp. _What the hell?_

Below him, surrounding the twisted and wrecked hole in the hull, was a mass of seals. They swirled about, darting in and out of the ship. Some hung suspended in the water, nearly motionless; watching. Tony's skin began to crawl as he felt them begin to watch him. _No! They're just seals. Get McGee. Get McGee. Get McGee._

The agent pulled himself downward and through the hull, his eyes recognizing the engine room. Thankfully, no seals were there, but as Tony made his way past the enormous scorched machines, he saw a flash of flippers in the hallway. _Dammit! What the hell is going on?_

Pushing forward, Tony made his way towards the doorway, grasped both sides, and looked into the hallway. The agent almost forgot to breathe.

In front of him in hall, were 7 or 8 seals, all whirling around McGee. One had somehow managed to get itself stuck underneath the piece of metal that pinned him to the floor, while another rest on the hallway floor beside the man. From his vantage point in the doorway, Tony couldn't tell if McGee was still alive, but hesitated on pushing forward. The scene before him was just too bizarre.

* * *

McGee looked at his watch. 32 minutes. Again, he tried to lift the steel plate. It budged slightly. As the ship tilted, the center of gravity in the piece of metal shifted. While McGee couldn't lift it off by himself, the change of positioning made it entirely possible to escape if he had help. He performed the underwater equivalent of a sigh.

Then he saw her. McGee wasn't sure how he could identify her so easily, but he just knew. It was the seal from the aquarium. It was the woman by the sea. It was… both. _It._ Her slender snout peered into the hallway from the engine room, and McGee could almost see emotion in her eyes. Almost.

McGee's first thought was to ask her for help in sign language, then frowned, realizing how crazy that thought was. _Right, Tim. Ask a seal, in sign language, for help. You're really lacking oxygen to the brain aren't you?_

So, he did the next best thing. With his eyes, he made the most pleading, helpless look he could. And with that, she disappeared back into the engine room. McGee frowned, tried to lift the steel again, failed, then relaxed. As he lay, staring at the ceiling of the hall, he couldn't help but think that that was her. It had to be. He had felt the most uncanny feeling of recognition.

The seal nose poked through the wall again. Then another, and another, and in an instant, 7 seals were all in the hall with McGee, twirling about and bumping into him, flippers smacking his face.

_I wonder if seals are carnivorous? Oh God! They're here to eat me! I pointed a gun at my team, am going to drown, and eaten by seals. Fantastic. Seriously, how long have I been down here? No one can hold their breath this long. Oooooh I get it, I'm already dead. I've already drowned, and now this is… limbo? Heaven? No, probably hell if it's a reenactment of my death. I didn't think I was that bad of a person. Well, at least I'm not burning, or in an eternal pit of fire. I wonder what circle I'd be on in Dante's Inferno? Maybe I'll be reincarnated. No, Tim, stop thinking like that. No, it's ok, you're already dead, think however you want, because the afterlife is inevitable. Or maybe it's not…_

McGee's mind continued his usual deep banter with itself as the edges of his vision began blurring. Little black spots began dancing in front of his eyes and he could feel himself go limp. He didn't even mind that the seals were crowded around him. Thankfully they weren't biting. Then, he felt a seal push itself underneath the weight and arch its back. As he felt the steel piece of the wall move, he heard a voice inside his head. Her voice.

"_Push"_

With his final reserves of strength, McGee pushed.

* * *

Before Tony could pull himself into the hallway, the realization of what was happening before him struck heavy in his mind.

The steel plate slid from McGee's body, echoing mutely as it tumbled down the hall.

_No. That… can't be right. Did… that… did they… no. No way. I don't believe it._

* * *

The voice in McGee's head sounded again as his body rejoiced at its liberation from the burden.

"_Hold"_

Numbly, McGee looked to his right and saw her. She rest on the floor of the hall calmly, her grey flank against his shoulder. McGee wrapped his arms around the seal's neck, but immediately felt fear inside her. He followed her gaze and saw a man in scuba gear watching them. All the seals fled rapidly, causing Tony to duck to avoid being stampeded by the mob. As soon as they were clear of the hall, Tony hurried in, ripped the mask off and shoved the mouthpiece into McGee's face.

McGee took a few deep breaths, then glared at Tony.

_You scared her away._

Tony grabbed McGee's arms, wrapped them around his shoulders, and began pulling the nearly unconscious man through the engine room.

* * *

**The quote at the top is from the song 'Open Water' by Thrice.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

**'I'll never understand**  
**Why I have been saved**  
**The sea sings its master plan**  
**Over the waves'**

"Hey! We got a live one!"

A group of paramedics hurried over to the side of the docks as Tony, with McGee's arms wrapped around his shoulders, hoisted them both onto the planks. They both lay, Tony panting, and McGee barely breathing. But he was breathing. The older agent, face on the ground, began pulling the oxygen tank from his back, his actions slow from sheer exhaustion.

"H-here ya guys go. Y-you can h-have it back. Scuba diving is s-stupid." Tony mumbled into the ground, not speaking loud enough for anyone to hear him, and not caring if anyone did.

Quickly, The paramedics log-rolled McGee onto his back and began their initial trauma assessment. By this time, the NCIS group had made it over, but were held back by firefighters; except for Gibbs. None of them touched Gibbs as he knelt by McGee's side.

"McGee! McGee! Tim!" Gibbs called into his face, but the young agent made no sign of alertness. The medics swarmed him, one carefully asking Gibbs to step back, which he did.

"We got paradoxical movement. Hold it! Pulse at… 33. Breathing rate 8. Shit! Come on, get a BVM over here!"

One medic placed a bag-valve mask on McGee's face and began pumping oxygen into his lungs as another cut his shirt open. The NCIS group nearly gasped as they saw how McGee's ribs performed a seesaw motion as he breathed. Fractured sternum. Fractured ribs. Torn intercostal muscles. Possible punctured lung. Possible impending tension pnuemothorax.

Only Ziva noticed McGee's arm slowly stretch out towards the ocean, fingers clawing toward the sea, fingernails grinding against the wood dock. She followed his fingers with her gaze and saw the group of seals far off in their group. Watching. The sight made Ziva shiver.

Ducky was attending to Tony, who was sitting up, elbows wrapped around his knees, muttering how he was going to kill McGee if his lungs, weakened from his bout with pnuemonic plague, killed him. And, he was still muttering something about all the lonely women in the world if he died, when he was loaded into one of the ambulances. Gibbs climbed in with him.

Soon after, McGee was loaded into one as well, his neck secured in a cervical collar. Before the medics could close the doors, Ziva jumped in. The medics looked at her, then continued their reassessment after succumbing to her death glare.

* * *

_'I am not defeated _

_Just overwhelmed _

_I am not mistreated _

_J__ust underfed'_

* * *

Admiral McGee stepped off the airplane after a nearly 13 hour plane flight. He had bid James a surprisingly tough and emotional goodbye, slung his duffel over his Navy issue peacoat, then left the United States for the very last time. He had no intention of ever returning. One way ticket. To never return home. Home? What is home? No. Home was not on land. Where the only constant was rigid, unforgiving earth. Ben, over the years, had realized one thing about himself. While he wasn't sure whether he truly believed that he was a selkie, factoring in whimsical fantasy theories and the cancer affecting his thought processes, one truth remained; he never felt peace on land.

The heartbreaking fact of it all, though, was that he knew his son felt the same way. He knew, from the moment he had stolen him from his mother, that Tim would never feel peace. True peace. Sure, he would feel content at times, but not happy. Content versus happy. One can truly be content, and tolerate it, but true happiness trumped the mild security of contentment thousandfold.

Ben hailed a taxi and handed the driver a worn piece of paper with a faded address. The old man leaned back into the seat and watched through the window as the sea fled past as they drove.

* * *

It had been so many years since he'd been to Holy Loch. While it felt more natural than anywhere in the States, it was not his final destination. He needed to tie up loose ends. He needed to apologize. The secrets he kept from Darius had broken his heart, being that he was his truest friend. He never told Darius about the wom… selkie he had met and slept with in Holy Loch. When Darius had asked why he never returned with the promised Davidoffs, he had tersely prattled off a story about picking up a woman at a different bar and spending the night with her. Darius saw through the lie, but didn't press the matter. That was over 30 years ago. Times had changed, and now, with Ben's body ready to fail, he needed to make amends before he died. _Before I die. _

As Ben paid the driver and exited the taxi, he thought about death.

'_DEATH is a dialogue between The spirit and the dust'. _

Ben sighed as he walked up the gravel driveway to Darius' home, thinking of Emily Dickenson's choice words.

_Maybe death was that, in fact. A relationship between the insignificance of mere specks of earth, and this supernatural ambience that we as humans, or whatever I am, call a soul. This feeling, thinking, conscious part of us that lends its advice of morality, right and wrong, and emotions. Maybe death is like slumber, to be thought of as a temporary intermission between one act and the next. But if that were true, what would the second act be? And if we cannot recall the first act from the second, who's to say there was no act before the first? Maybe it's all a cycle of lives, where we are presented with similar trials. Until we perfect the appropriate response to each and every hardship with honor, we are never set free from the cycle. But, what then, is being set free? Non-existence, such as Tibetan Buddhism? Each cycle is similar, then we cease to exist, as a reward for a perfect life? Then, suppose, what is the true age of each individual? Or, per se, what is the age of each soul? Are we mere fragments of stars, our time stretching back to darkness? Then why, if non-existence is a goal, would we have come from non-existence? Was it for the sole purpose of the trial? For proving oneself worthy of escape from the cycle? Or do we just become dust? But if I'm not entirely human, does any of that apply?_

"Benji?"

Ben was woken from his thoughtful wanderings by Darius' voice. McGee glanced around himself, realizing he had been standing in Darius' garden for at least ten minutes thinking about death. He smiled broadly, dropped his duffel, and hugged his old friend. For longer than he could remember. He could hear the emotion in Darius' voice.

"I thought I'd never see ya, ya old cuss! Get inside! Have some tea with an old brother of yours."

_If the sea is my home, this is the closest place on land to it. _

"Sure, Darius, sounds nice."

Ben took a forlorn glance at the sea behind him, then stepped into his friend's home.

* * *

_'Call me no coward _

_To the sea, I'll go _

_Downtrodden, I'll plod onward _

_The sky is below'_

* * *

The first sensory feeling McGee was aware of, was not the pain from 7 cracked ribs. It wasn't the feeling of sheets about his body, or the firm rigidity of the hospital mattress. He felt alone. While lonesomeness was not something unfamiliar to the man, there was something different about this 'type' of loneliness. It was as if someone had quelled the depression and original lonliness within him for just a brief moment, then pulled the comfort away, laughing and jeering. McGee finally knew, without subjective thought, what the facts were.

He had been saved by the seals. Fact.

While he had had his initial thoughts that he had died within the ship, he knew this to be false. It was mere wishful thinking. Unfortunately, life, or death rather, was not that convenient. If only he had died in the ship, he wouldn't have to tend to the serpentine pathway that was his life. But he didn't, and he was alive. Hurt, but alive. So, McGee opened his eyes.

"Hello, lad."

Ducky sat in the chair beside the hospital bed, a cup of coffee, or probably tea, between his palms. He smiled apologetically.

"Hi, Ducky. How are you?"

The old man chuckled.

"Shouldn't that expression be the other way around?"

"I'm fine," the agent spoke softly, "chest hurts."

"That's understandable."

"Is everyone else here?"

"They are."

"In the waiting room?"

"Yes."

Tim sighed. He knew he had to face them. He knew, as was his duty as an injured colleague to address them. To thank Tony for getting him out of the ship. To apologize for threatening them. To tell them that he was doing alright. But, oddly enough, those important and inevitable responsibilities fell by the wayside in McGee's mind. It all just seemed… trivial. Because, he didn't want to thank Tony, he didn't want to apologize for threatening them, and he was absolutely not alright. He hadn't been alright for his entire life, and now, with the occurrence, or rather, his liberation from a watery grave, his mind finally began to entertain what the truth was about Timothy McGee. That he would never be alright, if he remained the way he was.

_Why did Tony have to save me? Why couldn't I have gone with her?_

"I can see there is quite alot on your mind, lad."

Tim nodded, thinking of the ironic sense of peace he'd experienced a few hours earlier. About to die, but peaceful. Certain death, but calm. Was it that he really wanted to die, or was it the sea about him? Tim couldn't be sure. What he was sure of, was his hatred for where he was. He hated all of it. The hospital bed, the building, the land. He hated it. Everything felt rigid and rough. Unforgiving. Hard. Not free flowing, smooth, and tranquil like the sea. Even though 7 ribs had been snapped by the wall, the most pain he felt right now was the contact of his skin with the bed and its covers. And not because of his injury, but because of his tumultuous heart.

As he lay, avoiding Ducky's caring eyes, he began to realize his newfound and somewhat clear desire was transitioning from a want to a need. He shuddered, turning his head involuntarily towards the closest point where the sea touched the land. That painful contact point, where life met death. Where happiness met simple contentment, or depression, depending on how you look at it.

It all began to make sense now. Tim understood that he was a logical, reasoning, and overtly analytical individual. With that in mind, he retraced his steps of the last few days.

_I broke into an aquarium, which I almost passed out at on multiple occasions, earlier that day. Does a logical person do that? No. I was mesmerized and brought to tears by a plush seal. Does a reasonable person do that? No. I went to the ocean, and slept with her, who I don't even know. Does a conservative, shy, and even timid person, as I am, do that? No. _

McGee's heart started increasing its pace, as indicated by the beeping machines beside him, as a realization dawned on him. He was not only thinking of the truth, but that the word 'person' felt odd to say. It was as if someone put a large marble in his mouth then asked him to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. He knew what he was trying to say, but it just sounded wrong.

"Timothy?"

"Yeah Ducky."

"Should I get the others?"

Tim sighed.

"Sure."

* * *

Darius sat hunched forward. Ben had just finished his tale. He just confessed his lie. Slowly, the black man leaned back, gnarled fingers raking across stubble. Then, to Ben's surprise, he began to laugh. It wasn't just a chuckle, or a light hearted quiet laughter, but an uproarious chortle. Darius held his sides then slapped his knee.

"I knew it! I knew there was something 'bout you! Hell, doesn't take a genius to know a man can't hold his breath that long. Damn Benji, if I didn't know you, I'd say you were crazy. Only lie I ever knew you to tell, was the one to cover all this up. Either you're a damn good liar, or you're telling God's honest truth, an' I'm betting on truth. Yeah, Benji, all my chips are in on truth."

Ben stared blankly at his friend.

"You… you believe me?" For a moment the old man sounded like a child.

"Yes sir." Darius replied with a smile.

"All that I told you?"

"Yep."

"Even the part about… what that… woman told me? Who I was? What I am?"

Darius took a sip of tea, flicking at his stubble again.

"Ok, well sure, it sounds impossible. Fictitious of course. But, there's somethin' ya gotta know Benji. Up here, there's tales of this sorta thing. Seal people and what have you. I never paid much mind to it, but I figure on one thing."

Ben nodded for his friend to continue.

"You got old sailors telling stories of this. You got bartenders telling stories of this. You got housewives, firefighters, teachers, military men, and day laborers. Everyone's got the tale of the seal people in 'em up here. You can hash it out to a broad, national hoax, of course. Or you could figure, statistically, with that many people believing it, it just may be true. Put it this way, Benji..."

Darius shifted his position on the couch.

"...you have truth and you got a lie. You make a statement, that can be either one. It's like a coin toss. Heads or tails. Fifty-fifty. Fifty percent chance on truth, fifty percent chance on lie. Well, even if the odds are on lie, a few times that coin's gonna fall on truth, now ain't it? And who better to believe truth that you're old friend, who flew all the way out from the States to say that one thing."

He sipped his tea, then nodded satisfactorily.

"Yep, I'm goin' with truth."

Ben leaned back, smiling, thinking of Darius' explanation of truth and lies; fact and fiction. Truth, it was. Then, what Darius said next tore McGee from his contentment.

"How long were ya gonna wait to tell me you had the cancer?"

* * *

**The quote at the beginning of the chapter is a line from the song "The Sweetest Wave" by Funeral For A Friend. The other quotes are mine, except Emily Dickenson's **


	15. Chapter 15

**First and foremost, I want to apologize for such a lengthy interval between this and my last post. Answers: No, I have not forgotten this story. Yes, I plan on finishing it. Yes, I plan on responding to your reviews and giving answers. And as always, thank you for the love and reviews. I hope you all are still with me on this story! **

**Don't own... **

* * *

**Chapter 15**

Those in the hospital room moved about McGee in a blur. It was like their images smeared across a living canvas, going in and out, mingling and separating with one another. It was like everything was on fast forward. They stood in front of him, grabbed his hands, touched his IV tubes, and poked him. It was a shade above mildly irritating, but Tim withstood it, understanding that they were there to check up on him.

Because they were his friends. Because they cared about him. Right? _Probably because I'm too clumsy and incompetent to heal on my own._

"Yes I'm fine." _I'll never be fine._

"Thank you Tony." _How can I even forgive you?_

"Sorry for the gun thing." _I'd do it again if it meant I could see her again._

"Yes Duck. No Ducky. I know Ducky." _*Prolonged sigh*_

There were sideways glances thrown between Gibbs and Tony, which one would have to be blind to miss. Something was off. Tony sensed it through McGee's awkward silence, and Gibbs knew the the thousand yard stare from his days in combat, years ago. But, the thousand yard was reserved for those who had faced unrelenting combat for days on end, not a singular moment trapped underwater. Gibbs looked down at McGee, who's gaze could have seen through walls, and wondered whether McGee was that weak, that a simple traumatic event would trigger this, or something else was off. Gibbs bet on the second option, as McGee's eyes drifted lazily about, unfocused and uncaring. He sighed, took a sip of coffee, and watched as time drifted past McGee's disconnected expression.

As unspoken words and hours passed, Ducky gestured to Gibbs to accompany him outside McGee's room. Tony had gone to fetch coffee, leaving McGee alone with Ziva, who sat in one of the chairs, watching her injured coworker.

As soon as the door closed, Gibbs turned to Ducky.

"What's up, Duck?"

"What is up? Jethro, all is not well. Things are not alright."

"I can see that."

Ducky scratched his chin, taking a deep breath.

"When you left Timothy, was he… underwater?"

Gibbs' eyebrows slightly raised.

"Yeah, pretty much. Why?"

Ducky tilted his head to the ceiling as his lips began to silently count.

"That would mean, Timothy was underwater for approximately 30-40 minutes."

Gibbs stared at the M.E.

"Well, don't you find that… odd, Jethro?"

Gibbs shrugged.

"The world record, as of now, for holding one's breath underwater, is just over 19 minutes. Timothy held his for over double that."

Gibbs' gut began churning as Ducky continued.

"It is not natural, Jethro. Unless the water in the hull drained, or Timothy had access to oxygen somehow. That truth is, he should not be alive. And, Anthony already verified that our dear friend was indeed without oxygen."

"What are you thinking, Duck?"

Ducky mulled the question over, taking a few steps down the hall, then returning.

"It is not natural, Jethro. Our Timothy… should be dead."

* * *

As time passed, McGee became more and more distant. His _friends_ would come to see if he was alright, and he would repeat the same regurgitated questions from behind his slide lock. Even Ziva, whom he had felt some connection with in lieu of what had happened, was shut out. He half smiled. He nodded. But all he understood at that moment, was that they were not of the sea. And so, they were apart from him.

McGee thought back to his moments trapped within the ship, as he felt the comforting presence of the seals around him. Nothing could compare to that comfort, or the solace he found in the sea. Even on the verge of death, he desired to be nowhere else.

* * *

**Three Weeks Later**

The bullpen was quiet. Gibbs was off talking to the director, and Ziva looked around suspiciously. Tony was sitting at his desk, doing work. He wasn't talking. He wasn't cracking jokes. He wasn't saying… anything. Ziva watched as Tony looked to his right, to Tim's empty desk, took a deep breath, then returned to his paperwork. After a few minutes though, without looking up, Tony spoke.

"You think he's coming back?" His voice was so soft that it almost startled Ziva.

"McGee?"

"Yeah. Probie. You think he's coming back?" Tony repeated the question.

"Well, of course, as soon as he's done healing."

"That's not what I meant, Ziva."

Ziva's eyebrow quirked at Tony as he stood, but she understood the question, not knowing the answer. Over the past few weeks, the team, including Abby had emailed, called, and even visited McGee's apartment. None of which offered a solution to what their teammate had become. Tony sighed and stood.

"Tell Gibbs I have to go."

Ziva glanced up at him, question playing on her face.

"Family emergency."

_Because Tim is family, _Tony thought to himself as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the elevator.

* * *

**One Hour Later**

"McGoo! You home?"

Tony pounded on the door, juggling a 6 pack of beer and a pizza. The only signs of life from the other side of the door was Jethro's bark and the faintest sound of movement.

"I know you're in there! Come on, Probie! Have a drink and a slice with your favorite special agent!"

Nothing. Tony then thought of something to entice the man.

"Ziva's out here naked!"

Nothing.

"And Abby too!"

Tony, immediately thought of what he had said, glanced around himself and down the hallway, realizing that that may have been something odd for another tenant to hear. Then, he heard the deadbolt being slid back, and the door opened a crack. Two sunken, nearly unrecognizable eyes peered out from over the slide lock chain.

"What, Tony."

At that response, DiNozzo could barely compose his thoughts.

"Uhhh well, I lied. Ziva and Abby aren't here. But they may be naked somewhere else. In the shower maybe…"

Tony's mind wandered, then he got back on track.

"I figured we could-"

"No, Tony."

The door began to close. In a flash, Tony's foot was in the way, leaving an inch of space between the door and the threshold. A single shadowed eye, surrounded by a dark circle, peered annoyingly back at him.

"What gives, Probie? I just wanted to see if you are alright! Maybe spend-"

"I'm not alright."

Tony stuttered.

"Well, it was more of a… ummm… one of those questions you ask to… you know… show concern… even though you know the person isn't exactly… alright."

"I'm not."

"I got that."

Silence.

"So… can I come in?" Tony flashed his grin.

"No."

"No?!"

"No."

"But I brought beer and pizza!"

"I said no."

Tony stood, silent for a moment, staring at his foot, debating whether to move it, or leave it there. He settled with the latter.

"What's wrong with you, McGee? I mean, come on! You're healing! We saved you! And we aren't even holding grudges about the gun thing! I swam down into-"

"You didn't save me, Tony. No person can save me." McGee whispered ominously.

Tony just stared as he struggled to keep his jaw from dropping, his mind racing as to what that could mean.

"No… _person_ can save you?"

"Yes."

"What does that… what does that even mean?!"

McGee sighed, the one eye that was visible shot downward, glaring at Tony's foot, then back up to his face.

"Don't… don't pretend to care now, Tony."

"Excuse me?!"

"I said, don't pretend to care. I know that my death would have just been... inconvenient. You and Gibbs both made that clear."

"Probie, that was jus- You know that's not the truth."

"And stop calling me that." The sheer bitterness in his tone shook DiNozzo to his core. McGee's eye lowered.

"It's just… getting old, you know?" McGee spoke sadly as he continued.

"Probie this, Probie that. I have a name, you know. It's even monosyllabic, making it easier to say than Probie. Just stop, ok? I'm gonna go."

"No, you're not."

"Excuse me?!" McGee snorted incredulously.

"I said, no you're not. And I'm not going anywhere. Open the slide lock."

DiNozzo, with foot still in the threshold, dropped the beer and pizza to the floor, placing his palm on the door, and pushed it. He heard the slide lock strain and a quiet grunt from McGee as he tried to close the door.

"Dammit McGee, open the door!"

"No!"

"Seriously, I'm going to break your lock. I'll pay for it, of course, but I'm warning you." Tony growled.

"Tony, leave."

DiNozzo sighed, then nodded to himself.

"...ok McGee. I warned you. Stand back."

"What?"

"I said stand back. Now!"

With a singular athletic motion, Tony lifted his foot from the threshold, and kicked the door just beneath the slide lock. He heard the chain snap as the door flung open, the sound of McGee tumbling to the floor closely followed.

Tony rushed into McGee's apartment and stooped to help his partner up.

"Don't touch me! I can do it!"

McGee's snarl started Tony, but he refused to yield. He lifted McGee to his feet, then grasped either side of his partner's bare shoulders. Roughly. McGee's anger filled eyes challenged back. Without a word, Tony kicked backwards, flinging the door shut, then tightened his grip on Tim's shoulder's.

"Now, I know you've had a rough time, but you're going to tell me what the hell is-"

Tony stopped his rant short as his eyes caught the sight that was Tim's living room. The senior agent had been in his friend's apartment before; but, now, he barely recognized it.

"McGee… what the-"

"I told you to leave…" McGee mumbled.

_Was that… shame? Embarrassment? McGee? What the hell is going on?_

Tony released Tim, who took several timid steps to the side and sat in his typewriting chair. The senior agent rubbed a hand across his mouth as he turned his head, taking in the odd state McGee's apartment was in.

_It's like Conspiracy Theory. Mel Gibson. 1997…._

Plastered over nearly every inch of the apartment walls were nautical charts of different regions of ocean. Red, blue, and green pins labeled certain locations, while bits of colored yarn connected other pins. Red and black marker zig-zagged across the charts, where circles, X's, and untidy hand written notes adorned. By McGee's kitchen was a large piece of poster paper on the wall, with a list of longitude and latitude's; some crossed out, and some circled.

On McGee's coffee table was another map; one of Scotland. Holy Loch was circled, as well as several tiny islands on the North side of the nation. Also on the coffee table, were several hand written letters with Tim's handwriting, as well as a very, _very, _old looking book. A nautical journal chronicling a sea captain's travels in the waters to the North East of Scotland.

On McGee's mantle were several ceramic pottery pieces; different interpretations of what looked like seals. While some were very realistic in shape and detail, others were abstract renderings of the sleek and hydrodynamic form of the sea creatures.

The apartment was dark, thick curtains pulled over the windows. Behind a silent McGee, was his typewriting desk, but the antique writer was nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was an ancient looking deep sea diving helmet, some sea glass and shells in a neat pile, and a sea captain's looking glass next to a sextant.

"McGee?"

Tony's tone had gone from angry and frustrated, to concerned and confused. His eyes focused on his seated friend, and only then did he realize Tim's form.

The young agent was wearing a pair of rough looking grey sweat pants, no shirt, and a black shadow across his upper chest. Tony narrowed his eyes and looked closer.

_McGee got a tattoo?!_

The young agent sat in silence, elbows on knees, staring at his bare feet, looking very much like a child that had been caught stealing a pack of gum from the store.

"What… What…" Tony cleared his throat and rubbed his chin before trying again.

"What is going on?"

Silence

"Tim, talk to me."

McGee shook his head.

"Seriously, what is all this? Probie? Come on man!" Tony pleaded.

"...not normal."

Tony decided to not even argue with that statement.

"Well, yeah, I got that a little McConspiracy Theorist. Let me see that tattoo."

Tony walked over, and to his surprise, McGee straightened up his posture, almost proudly showing off the cursive black lettering across his chest. The thin cursive stretched from the begging of one shoulder, curved about beautifully across his chest, ending at the other shoulder; the height of it reaching his collar bones; the tails of the capital letters reaching almost to his nipple line.

_Geur-Rannsachadh Mara_

"Gore, ransack… cad… mara?" Tony's twisted tongue mumbled.

McGee nodded.

"...and what might that mean, Tim?"

"Literal translation? Diligently searching of the sea."

Tony pursued his lips and nodded slightly.

"Ok… so, what's with all this?!" Tony finally blurted, his inquisitive mind yearning.

"I mean, all the maps and charts and the… seal sculptures! What is it with you? Seriously, McCreepy, what's going on… oh wait hold on, I'm grabbing the beer. Left it outside."

McGee nodded silently, relenting to the fact that he would not be able to get Tony out, and he had already seen everything. No point to kicking him out now.

When Tony returned, Tim was clearing a section of the coffee table of the debris, carefully cradling the journal and maps and placing them gently on his desk chair.

"And tell me," Tony spoke as he sat, "who is she? I didn't know you were an artist."

McGee followed Tony's pointing finger to the easel in the corner of the room. Upon it sat thick parchment, with a pile of art charcoal on a plate. The charcoal had been used to create her image. _Her image. Not, it's image._

In varying shades of grey and black, was a bust drawing of the woman; though created in dark hues, even Tony could see the mysterious look in her eyes, the beckoning slight smile. Deep charcoal marks swept her hair down to cover a bare chest. One hand was held forward, in perfect three dimensional perspective. Her fingers were outstretched, as if reaching to take hold of another's hand.

McGee looked at her image and smiled.

After the beer was cracked open, with pizza in hand, Tim took a deep breath. He leveled sunken eyes at Tony, mouthful of food, beckoned eagerly for his younger agent to reveal just what the hell was going on. McGee swallowed his food, and spoke.

* * *

**Again, I apologize for not continuing this as often as I'd like, but life is... life. So bear with me, and if you're still reading, I'm going to try to get another chapter up fairly soon.**

**-Papillon**


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